Pater Unfamiliar
by DoofusPrime
Summary: When a newly married Claudia Lipsky and Dementor move into Drakken's lair, he discovers that Kim and Ron are the least of his problems.  Before he can start his latest scheme, Drakken must decide whether to welcome his new stepfather or destroy him.
1. Daddy?

**Pater Unfamiliar**, by DoofusPrime

_Notes - Okay, here's a new story. I've been meaning to get to this for quite a long time, so I'm excited to finally start it up. This takes place during season 4, and while Kim and Ron play a significant role throughout the story, they are secondary characters. The overall focus is on Drakken and his family. Hope you guys enjoy it!_

* * *

**Daddy?**

XX

If there was one thing Kim Possible hated about foiling one of Señor Senior Senior's evil plots, it was the way broken tile and plaster dust got all over her when his Spinning Tops of Doom cut the floor apart. Even after she took a shower later, she always felt like grit and grime had settled down into her thick red hair. Kim was experiencing that unpleasant feeling now. She grimaced as a cloud of debris hit her square in the face, holding up her hands to try to deflect it from her eyes before cartwheeling backwards to avoid the passing top.

"Ron!" she yelled. "Watch out!"

Her boyfriend, who had been trailing behind her, dodged to the side and narrowly escaped being ground into the ground by the passing top. They were dangerous devices, at least theoretically, but fundamentally flawed in the sense that anyone who wasn't tied down to a chair could avoid them. Even tied down to a chair, Kim thought she could probably stay out of the way. She dodged another top as it ricocheted off the wall and hurtled in her direction. Now that she thought about it, maybe there was something a little vain about thinking plaster dust in her hair was the worst part of a Senior scheme. But she couldn't help it. She had very nice hair, after all.

"Where are they, KP?"

"I dunno, Ron. We need to get past these tops and find the Electromagnetronicator before Señor Senior Senior sets it off! Wade said he thought it was in the central control room!"

"When is anything _not_ in the central control room?" asked Ron as he scrambled away from two tops which were converging on him at the same time. "I mean, come on! Do the bad guys ever put their big _mucho destructo _rays in a supply closet? At least we wouldn't think of looking there."

"Right," said Kim, "but that's just not how it's done."

"What did Wade say again? When we get to the Electro – the Elec – the thing Senior stole from the government lab, how do we disable it?"

"It was a little complicated," said Kim. She had to agree with Ron on that point. Sometimes Wade forgot that not everyone was fluent in his very advanced brand of geek-speak. "We'll just have to call him up again on the Kimmunicator after we find the command center and subdue-"

Kim managed to pull Ron aside and get a little breathing space from the Spinning Tops of Doom, and as the two of them watched, the tops solved their most pressing problem. They had been caught in the trap room after the doors around them locked simultaneously, and Kim had been looking for an opening of at least a few moments so she could try to use one of Wade's crazy gadgets to break through. Fortunately, the far wall of the room had been buckling for a while, and one particularly out-of-control top smashed its way right through into another room. Another top struck a glancing blow against the remainder of the wall, sending the whole thing tumbling down.

The first errant top continued spinning and smashing its way violently through the next room as Kim watched. Waiting for the right moment, she made a dash forward, weaving her way delicately through the remaining tops as she ran across the trap room into the new opening. Ron was hot on her heels. That was another thing about Spinning Tops of Doom, she thought with a smirk. They really _weren't_ the best investment for a supervillain concerned about his lair's architectural integrity.

"What is going on?" shouted Junior.

Kim stopped and gawked as Junior stepped out of a tanning bed in the middle of the room. Apparently the top had smashed into some kind of combination gym and personal spa, judging by the shattered equipment all around her.

Junior removed a pair of headphones from his head and took off his sunglasses as he stared at his two uninvited guests. After a moment, he noticed the nearby Spinning Top of Doom. Kim was surprised to see it going in a straight line, smashing right through yet another wall, apparently much less strongly reinforced than the walls surrounding the trap room where the tops were actually released. The three of them flinched as the spinning top turned the wall into rubble within seconds. Ron held his ears as the sound of falling debris thundered through the room.

"Why are you two here?" asked Junior. He looked around at his mangled gym equipment and personal beauty accessories strewn across the floor. Kim almost felt bad about his look of disappointment.

"We were just dropping by to take back the Electromagnetronicator," she said. "You know, you guys should really think about something besides those Spinning Tops of Doom."

Junior gave a grunt of displeasure as he observed the destruction around him. "You do not have to tell me that, Kim Possible. Talk to my father!"

"Um, will do. Where is he?"

"He is in there, waiting for the two of you."

Junior pointed into the new room which had just been revealed by the still spinning rogue top. Kim followed his finger with her eyes; that was it. They had found the central control room. Not only that, but the Electromagnetronicator was sitting right in the middle of the spacious room, and Señor Senior Senior himself stood a few yards away from it as he stared in horror at the approaching top.

"Dude!" shouted Ron. "Get out of the way!"

Junior gasped in fright as he saw his father dart out of the top's way. Fortunately, the elder Senior was faster than he appeared. Before Kim or Ron could even make their way over the wall's rubble and into the room, the top ran straight into the Electromagnetronicator with a deafening shriek of metal on twisted metal. A salvo of sparks and explosions thundered out as the stolen machine crumpled against the spinning top's onslaught. Kim had been about to rush into the room, but she thought better of it. She held Ron back while they watched the disaster unfold. Junior, however, ran straight into the control room before Kim could stop him.

"_Father!_"

Kim was about to head straight into the smoking mess that obscured the control room in search of her foes, but she whirled around at the grinding sound coming from behind her. Ron dodged aside on instinct as another Spinning Top of Doom made its way out of the trap room and towards her. For just a moment, Kim thought she had been taken by surprise – she was just about to anticipate her life flashing before her eyes when the top abruptly came to a halt. It teetered for a moment before falling on its side with a crash. She turned around; it took a few moments before the smoke in the control room began to clear, but the destructive top inside had also stopped. Junior sat in the wreckage, holding his father.

"Father, are you alright? Talk to me!"

Kim and Ron rushed forward. For a moment, things looked grim, but she saw Senior cough and struggle to his feet with his son's help.

"Yes, my son," he said. "Thank you. I am fine. Other than my utterly destroyed lair."

"Hey, don't blame us," said Ron.

Senior looked at his two teen guests and gave Kim a grudging nod of defeat. "We meet again, Kim Possible," he said. "Although I must admit I was not expecting to be defeated quite that quickly."

"You and me both," said Kim. "That one top went a little crazy."

Ron glanced at the remnants of the control room. The rest of them also paused and looked around as an ominous groaning sound echoed through the valued room. It seemed to be coming from all around them.

"You know," said Ron, "maybe we should run for it? Losing that many walls can't be good for any building."

"That is an excellent suggestion," said Señor Senior Senior.

The four of them rushed past the fallen top as a few ominous chunks of plaster and metal began to fall down from above; fortunately, a large entrance stood just ahead of them. The groaning became louder, more insistent.

"Hurry up, Ron!"

"I'm going, I'm going!"

The Seniors led the way as Kim and Ron followed them through the entrance and out into the courtyard of the their Mediterranean island lair and home. They made sure to put some distance between themselves and the house. Sure enough, almost as soon as they turned around, the rest of the house finished caving in, sending up a massive plume of dust and smoke, along with a few explosions thrown in here and there for good measure. Roiling clouds of fire and smoke belched up into the sky. Pieces of debris began to fall from their ejection into the sky; Kim considered getting farther back, but the rain of debris ended after a few moments. She frowned as she raised a hand and ran her fingers through her hair.

Definitely covered in junk. She'd have to shower a second time when she got home.

"I told you, father," said Junior as he looked at the wreckage of their home, "I _told_ you this is what would happen! Every single time you come up with one of your plans, Kim Possible and her sidekick thwart you! Why is it that you always keep trying?"

"It is what I do, my son. I am a villain. An old man needs hobbies to keep him occupied."

"I wish you would pick different hobbies. Perhaps bingo. I have heard the old people like to play that. Right now, your hobbies have destroyed my gym and spa room!"

"I think they destroyed everything," Ron pointed out.

"Oh, yes. You are right."

"Nevertheless, my son, I am glad you are alright."

Junior crossed his beefy arms over each other and gave his father a petulant pout, but after a moment, he gave in and gathered his father into a bone-crunching hug. Senior let out a small groan as his son embraced him before finally letting go as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

"I am glad you are fine as well, father. Perhaps next time we should consider something besides the Spinning Tops of Doom."

"We shall see, my son. We shall see."

Kim had been listening to the sound of Global Justice helicopters coming from behind them for a few moments. As she watched their enemies embracing, the first of the helicopters landed in what little empty space it could find between the swimming pool and the wreckage of the island lair. Dr. Director and Will Du rushed out of the helicopter as soon as it landed, along with a couple of Global Justice agents who approached the Seniors and handcuffed them before leading them back to the helicopter.

"Until next time, Kim Possible!"

Kim nodded at Señor Senior Senior as he willingly followed along with his Global Justice captors.

Junior nodded as he was handcuffed. "See you, Ron Stoppable. Good luck with the cowlick problems. And I hope things are going well between the two of you," he said as he looked back and forth between his two teen foes.

"Hey, thanks!"

Ron smiled as the GJ agents led Junior in the direction of the helicopter with his father. He turned to Kim just before Dr. Director and Will Du reached them. "That was nice of him to say, wasn't it?"

"It was," agreed Kim.

"Kim Possible! Ron Stoppable! Thanks for your help!"

Dr. Director reached the two of them and shook their hands. Will Du, following behind her, nodded curtly and stood at attention. Behind them, another helicopter landed beside the first one, and still another hovered in the air, obviously deciding there was no more room to touch down. Global Justice always came in force, thought Kim. If only they could come on time, too.

"Hey Dr. Director," she asked. "Do you think we could bum a ride back to Middleton?"

"Certainly. You'll have to ride in the second helicopter, I think it'll be a little less crowded."

"Sure."

"I'll join the two of you so we can go over the mission details."

"Excellent idea," said Will Du.

"The Electromagnetronicator is destroyed?"

"Yeah," said Kim. "Sorry about that. One of the tops wiped it out."

Dr. Director led the two teens in the direction of the second helicopter, but stopped by the first one before they lifted off in order to exchange a few words with the pilot and Will Du. Kim breathed a sigh of relief as she noticed Will Du being ordered into the other helicopter by Dr. Director. Apparently, he was going to ride with the Seniors as they were taken to wherever Global Justice actually held their prisoners; Kim wasn't exactly sure, to be honest. But one thing she did know was that she didn't really feel like dealing with the Will Du's condescending attitude after completing a mission. He'd probably be critiquing her moves, despite not having seen any of them himself or even participated in the actual mission.

"Man, those two make a weird pair, huh?"

Kim turned to her boyfriend as the two of them climbed into the waiting helicopter. "What, you mean the Seniors?"

"Yeah. One minute they were fighting with each other, and the next minute they were hugging each other."

"It _was_ a bit awkweird," agreed Kim. "I guess they have a complicated relationship. You'd think Junior would be a pain with his whole wannabe celebrity thing and the shallowness, but when you think about it, his dad is probably the one who makes things harder for the two of them, with all the world domination plots that Junior doesn't care about."

"I guess it can be tough when you don't have much in common with your parents."

"I wonder who his mom is," said Kim.

"Dunno."

Kim wondered if Senior had been a bit of a playboy in his younger years. Or, she thought with a shudder, maybe he still was. She had to agree with Ron, however; their relationship had to be a tough one. "I wonder if Junior has no interest in the supervillain thing because his father does," she said.

"What, like he just wants to be his own guy?"

"Sort of. I mean, maybe Junior's the way he is because his father is so rich. Maybe Senior's worked hard all his life, and Junior's a bum in general because it's like his way of rebelling against what his dad wants."

"Either that or he's just spoiled rotten."

Kim had to give Ron that one. But even accepting Ron's more likely explanation, it was interesting to think about how the father could have a son who ended up so completely different, and yet loved him all the same.

She knew she had been blessed in terms of her family situation, and she had a lot in common with both her mother and her father, even if she wasn't really as interested in the rocket science that excited her father so much. She wasn't as sure about Ron's situation. She knew he loved his parents, but he wasn't as close to them. But she couldn't imagine having a father like Señor Senior Senior. Although maybe that was just her. Junior seemed uninterested in his father's world domination schemes, but they did seem to love each other anyway. She wondered if they would get along better or worse if Junior actually shared his father's interest in villainy.

"Ready to go?" asked Dr. Director as she returned from her conversation and joined Kim and Ron, climbing into the helicopter and strapping herself in. "It shouldn't be long before we get you home. We'll transfer to a high-speed jet once we get to the GJ branch on the mainland."

"Thanks," said Kim as the helicopter began to lift off. She looked out over the waves, trying to work out what time it would be when they arrived in Middleton. She knew Ron wouldn't even try, as he had told her on multiple occasions that time zones made his head hurt.

"So KP," said Ron, "who do you think we'll be fighting next?"

Kim thought about it. It was always hard to predict, but Dementor had been fairly obsessed with her new battle suit lately. Despite the fact that she thought the thing had issues, to say the least. She didn't want to insult Wade by harping on it, though, and Wade himself knew it wasn't perfect.

"Dementor," she finally guessed. "Who do you think it'll be?"

"I'm going with Drakken. We haven't heard much from him since the prison break and the weird alien thing."

"True."

"Hey, wanna make a bet?"

Kim was open to the idea, although she decided it was best to avoid agreeing with Ron until she knew exactly what they would be betting. "A bet?" she asked. "Just cash?"

"Nah, that's boring. More specific. Let's see here... okay, if I'm right and we take Drakken down next, you have to treat me to an all-expense paid romantic evening at JP Bearymore's Pizza Partytorium. And that includes the all you can eat pizza special!"

Kim nodded. Ron's terms were actually much less severe than she had been expecting. After all, it wasn't like she didn't already have lots of experience waiting around while he played arcade games, or lending him money for Bueno Nacho. She'd accept his proposition, but now she had to decide on her own part of the bet. "If it's Dementor next," she said after a moment's consideration, "You go out shopping with me and Monique and pay for any new clothes we get. And we get to buy you a new outfit that's not just the same thing you always wear, and you _have_ to wear it. Even if it's not from Smarty Mart. No complaints."

"You drive a hard bargain, Kim," said Ron, narrowing his eyes. He looked suspicious, but extended a hand anyway. Kim shook it. She might have to rein in Monique a little if she won the bet. But even if she did win, there was a good chance she would have spent more on pizza than Ron would end up spending to cover their shopping spree, considering the kind of discounts she and Monique got at Club Banana versus the amount of pizza Ron and Rufus could eat in one sitting.

Kim breathed in ocean air as she leaned back in her seat, enjoying a break from dodging gigantic killer tops. She looked forward to getting home; maybe she could drag Ron along with Monique and the three of them could check out that new Club Banana outlet she heard had just opened in Lowerton. Hopefully they'd have a bit of a break before their next mission. Kim didn't really know who they would be up against next, but whoever it was, she and Ron would take them out. Just like they always did.

Hopefully it would be like today, she thought. It was always a pleasant surprise when supervillain foes were defeated by their own traps.

XX

Papers fell to the ground as Drakken fumbled through his shopping lists. He reached down and picked them up, trying to find the right paper as Shego rolled her eyes. They were color coded; there was a green one for grocery shopping, which he would have to do last so the milk wasn't laying around in the hovercraft for too long, and a beige one for the bookstore in which they were currently perusing the aisles. Drakken always thought the color beige was suggestive of books, for some reason.

_Eggs. Milk. Chocolate syrup._

Drakken grunted. This was the wrong list. Apparently he had printed the colors out incorrectly. He felt irked, but the list reminded him that he would soon have a resupply for his dwindling Cocoa Moo supplies, which made up for the printing problems. He licked his lips in anticipation before flipping to the green list, which was apparently the book list.

_Moron's Guide to Hypnosis. Check._

The book lay in his shopping basket, along with several others he had already picked up and crossed off his list. Shego waited beside him and tapped her foot impatiently as Drakken looked over the shelves in the aisle where they were standing. There was one remaining book on the list, which he couldn't seem to find.

_Moron's Guide to Programming Internet Superviruses. No check._

"Shego, do you see it anywhere?"

"I doubt they sell something like that here, Doctor D."

"Well, we're here nonetheless. Might as well keep an eye out."

"Whatever you say. Are you sure that book even exists?"

"I'm quite certain, Shego. Well, not certain in the sense that I've seen it anywhere or looked it up, if you want to quibble, but they have Moron's Guides for nearly every conceivable topic. Why wouldn't they have one for programming superviruses?"

"Maybe it's illegal or something."

"That doesn't mean people wouldn't want a guide for it. Although," said Drakken after musing on the topic for a moment, "I must say that the title 'Moron's Guide' is a bit condescending, don't you think? They ought to make a guide for geniuses who will quickly pick up on the given topic but have not yet had a chance to learn about it. It would be more my style."

Drakken looked over to see if his sidekick agreed with him, only to find that Shego had abruptly disappeared. He looked around, peering over the top of the shelves, until he saw familiar locks of jet-black hair just barely visible over the shelves of an adjacent aisle. A stylized wooden sign hung over the aisle which read 'Romantic Fiction.' Shego's inattentiveness irked Drakken even more than the color-coding snafu with his shopping lists. It was a Friday morning - she was technically on the clock, even if they happened to be enjoying a bit of a slow work day. But this was no time to be reading titillating tales of big-bosomed milk maidens meeting manly farmhands with pulsing pectorals.

Not that Drakken had any idea if those books were really written like that. It was just a wild guess.

"Excuse me," he said, approaching a help desk worker at a little kiosk in the center of the store. "Do you know, by any chance, if you have _Moron's Guide to Programming Internet Superviruses_ in stock?"

The employee nodded as he began a flurry of typing on a terminal. "Just a moment sir," he said. Drakken waited a few moments until the results of the search came up. "It looks like we have a number of _Moron's Guides_, including _Doomsday Weapons_ and _Using Magnets for Evil. _As well as _Magnets: How Do They Work? _If you're into magnets."

"I am certainly into magnets," said Drakken. "But I do not need to know how they work, thank you very much. And I don't need them today. Get to the book I'm looking for."

"Um, we do not have _Programming Internet Superviruses_. My apologies, sir."

"_Nnngh._ Very well."

Some of the magnet-themed books had piqued Drakken's interest, now that he thought about them, but he was disappointed that he had gotten almost everything on his shopping list except for one title. So close, and yet so far. He made his way towards the front of the store and got out his grocery list to see what he and Shego would need when they visited Smarty Mart. He was about to leave when he looked back and noticed Shego was still lost in the romance section.

"Shego!" he shouted.

"Alright already, just a minute!"

Shego grabbed a title from the shelves and went to the front registers, getting it in a bag before joining Drakken at the door. The two of the walked out into the open air together. The bookstore was part of a small outdoor shopping complex in Lowerton, and as there was no grocery store nearby, they would have to get in the hovercraft and travel to the nearest one. Maybe they could visit Smarty Mart, thought Drakken. Lowerton, unfortunately, didn't have a Smarty Mart, being a fairly backwater place to live compared with Middleton. Drakken was a little hesitant about the idea of visiting the Middleton Smarty Mart when he was technically still a escapee from jail, but evil supervillains liked a good bargain. Or especially supervillains, he told himself. Death rays and henchmen weren't getting any cheaper in this economy.

He definitely wanted to pay a visit to Smarty Mart. They'd just have to keep an eye out for their teen foes. Maybe the two of them could disguise themselves. Maybe by wearing sunglasses and copious amounts of clothing. It was just too bad green and blue skin stood out like a sore thumb.

"What did you get?" he asked his sidekick. Shego slapped his face away as he tried to crane his neck a little closer and peer over the edge of the bag.

"Ow!"

"None of your business."

"Fine! See if I care."

"So why do you want a guide to programming internet superviruses, anyway?"

"I suppose the time I spent in jail with Frugal Lucre gave me a few ideas, as annoying as he was. The internet is the communications medium of the future, Shego – that unpleasant little man never stopped talking about it, but perhaps he was on to something. He told me about this one scheme where he used a product bar code to try and spread a virus over the internet. I must admit it was intriguing. Let me see, what was it," Drakken asked himself, trying to recall Lucre's scheme. "A can of pine nuts, maybe? No, no. Perhaps a can of pickled halibut. Some kind of canned fish. Yes, I'm almost positive. I just remember it was a can of something-"

"Okay okay! I get the point."

"Well, whatever it was, Kim Possible and her buffoon of a sidekick foiled his plan."

"Couldn't have been such a great plan, then."

Shego was skeptical, but she couldn't help cracking her knuckles at the sound of their teen foes' names, in total agreement with the way Drakken spoke their names with disdain. "So when are you gonna tell me the details of your plan already?" she asked. "You'd better be careful - sooner or later I might actually get interested with all this secrecy."

"Oh, it's no secret, I just haven't hammered out the details yet."

"Maybe you'll have to give Lucre a call and get him to help you out, if this is some kind of internet deal."

"Excuse me, Shego, but I believe I can master any area of expertise that I choose to, uh – to expert myself in. My knowledge is off the hook!"

"Yeeeah. When you put it _that_ way, I'm sold."

The two of them walked down a cobblestone sidewalk, passing various boutiques and smaller stores, when Shego gave a gasp of excitement before calming herself down and resuming her normal cynical expression. Despite her attempts to cover it up, however, the gasp had been loud enough to catch Drakken's attention. "What is it?" he asked.

"Um, since we're already here, maybe we can visit that new Club Banana outlet over there?"

Drakken peered ahead of them as she pointed across the shopping complex. Sure enough, there was a clothing boutique a little ways away. A navy blue flag with white lettering designed to look like a pair of pants fluttered over the top of the store, letting shoppers know the new location was celebrating its grand opening. The Club Banana outlet was probably the most upscale place there, other than the bookstore. He grinned as he looked at his partner's excited expression. "You must be in a really girly mood today, Shego," he said cheekily.

"Watch it, Doctor D."

"Er, sorry. If you want, we can certainly – _teens_!"

Drakken shouted the word in surprise as two figures carrying shopping bags suddenly appeared from the store's entrance. The store was still dozens of yards away, but Drakken and Shego were walking right in the middle of the sidewalk that led towards it. Fortunately, directly to their right, they were just about to pass a small decorative concrete enclosure topped with bushes and a small tree. Shego grabbed Drakken and pulled him aside as the two of them dove behind cover. Drakken peered out amongst the bushes as Kim Possible and a young teen with a delicious Cocoa Moo-like complexion, whom Drakken did not recognize, chatted with each other outside the Club Banana outlet.

"That was close," whispered Shego.

"Indeed. What are they doing here in Lowerton?"

"Um, probably checking out that new outlet, duh."

"No need for your lip, Shego. It's just irritating. Who visits Lowerton, anyway? They don't even have a Smarty Mart! I thought it would be the perfect distance to keep an eye on Kim Possible and Global Justice while avoiding too much notice. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, I always say."

"I've _never_ heard you say that before."

"I just said it now!"

"_Sssh."_

The two of them grew silent as they watched their teen foe and her friend. Before long, the two girls were joined by a boy with frosted blond hair, who appeared from farther down the sidewalk and began to chat with them. Drakken snorted impatiently; at this point, the teens had to be loitering. Why didn't they go find somewhere else to chat? It was positively inconsiderate.

"Who's Kim's lady friend?" asked Drakken. "She looks familiar."

"Yeah, she does. I can't keep track of all these teens."

"What about the boy with the frosted hair? He's familiar too."

"I think Kim used to have a crush on him, didn't she? Back when we tried to use that embarrassment spray to make her invisible. Except she's with Stoppable now, supposedly."

"Who?"

"Her sidekick."

"Oh yes. Now I remember. Ah, the vagaries of teen romance!"

After what seemed like forever, the teens finally broke up their conversation and moved off in separate directions. The boy with the frosted hair turned a corner around a store farther down the outdoor complex, while Kim Possible and her friend got into a car and drove away. Drakken and Shego got up from their hiding spot as Drakken stretched out his legs, which had already begun to fall asleep after his awkward crouching.

"Time to see what kind of stuff that new outlet has," said Shego.

"Indeed. And after that we shall buy our groceries and return to the lair. I'll make some Cocoa Moo, and since it's Friday, we shall go out and enjoy some karaoke."

"Aw, do we have to?"

"We _absolutely_ have to, Shego."

"I'd almost rather work on whatever this dumb internet plan is that you're cooking up."

"It's not dumb, Shego – it's pure genius! And we'll get a chance to do that soon enough. Perhaps starting this weekend."

Drakken was surprised to hear a lack of complaints from Shego about the prospect of working over the weekend, but as the two of them quickened their pace over the sidewalk, he realized she was already absorbed in anticipation of what new Club Banana products she might find within the outlet.

Drakken was also feeling enthusiastic, but not about fashion. At least not clothing fashion. He was looking forward to fashioning a new plan. One which would make up for that humiliating failure with the Li'l Diablo robots that still loomed in his memory. It was maddening how close he had come to total victory, only to have it snatched away. How Kim Possible had foiled that foolproof scheme, he had no idea – dumb luck, probably. Nevertheless, he had enjoyed some time off from jail after that bizarre 'Great Blue' incident, and it was time to get to work. Time to get serious. Time to take revenge. Soon, his new scheme would be chugging along.

And this time, nothing would get in his way.

XX

Claudia Lipsky sipped on her Mai Tai and enjoyed the early morning breeze as she watched the sun begin to rise on the horizon. A blast of orange trickled out over the ocean in front of her, mixing its colors with the dark waves as it painted a glittering mosaic. Closer to the shore, her new husband splashed in the waves. Hawaii was a beautiful place to spend her honeymoon, but they would soon be leaving; while she was sad to know this was their last morning there, she was also excited to break the news to her son.

Not only that, but Claudia and her husband were planning to move into his lair. She had stopped by a few weeks ago after discovering that Drewbie had gotten a cute new place in a forest some distance past the outskirts of Lowerton, but unfortunately her son had not been home. She knew Drewbie would come around to the idea of them living together – it would be good for the family - although she hoped they wouldn't get in his way.

"Another cocktail, ma'am?" asked a passing resort worker balancing a tray of glasses.

"No thank you, young man."

The man nodded and went on his way. Claudia watched him for a moment as he stopped here and there to offer a beverage to the scattering of tourists who were lying on the beach with her. She and her husband had woken up early to see the sunrise and enjoy things a little more before they had to catch their plane; they had the beach mostly to themselves. Claudia smiled as she heard a joyful laugh coming from down near the shore.

"Sweetie pie, we need to start packing up real soon!"

Her husband yelled something in response, but the distance of the shore and his wild splashing made it hard for her to make out the words. She sat back with a sigh and took another sip of her cocktail before taking the pineapple slice from the rim of the glass and popping it into her mouth. She savored its sweet flavor as she twirled the little umbrella they always put in the cocktails. She couldn't wait 'till her little Drewbie and his new daddy were together - but for now, she supposed there was still a little more time to relax.

XX

'Relaxed' was not the first word that came to mind when Shego thought about karaoke night with Drakken, but this particular night was just awful. Her boss pelted out a tune on the stage which did not even remotely fit his style – if he had a singing style at all. He sounded even more hesitant and awkward than he usually did during karaoke songs, and she began to wonder if it was due to the content of the song. The other patrons flinched along with her as she counted the minutes until Drakken got bored and the two of them could head back to their lair for the night.

"Your love is like tears from the staaars..."

Shego flinched as Drakken's pitch swerved like a freight train going off the tracks.

"Mama, I just want you to know... lovin' you is like food to my soooul."

Even if it wasn't for the caterwauling from her boss, Shego wouldn't have been enjoying herself. She had been out to karaoke with Drakken a number of times in the past, and while the place in Middleton was pretty good, Shego didn't think much of the Lowerton Karaoke Klub. It was dingy, kind of cramped, and filled with people who seemed like they would fit perfectly into a reality TV show. Of course, Shego had to admit she was probably being a little unfair as a result of her irritability. Karaoke night was dragging on too long, the Club Banana outlet at the strip mall had been disappointing, and she was looking forward to getting back to the lair so she could start reading her new pulp romance novel.

The song drew to a close after Drakken's singing cut off abruptly. There was a moment of silence while he stood under the harsh blue stage lighting. Cigarette smoke from the karaoke club's audience curled languidly in the still air. The patrons seemed to take pity on him, however, because a few scattered claps made their way meekly out from amongst the tables in front of the stage. Drakken gave a faint bow in response. Shego, who was sitting on a bar stool to the side of the room and farther from the stage, gave a single clap and watched in amusement as Drakken made his way through the audience.

"Alright," he said, arriving at the bar counter, "how about we go back to the lair now?"

"Finally!"

Shego took the liberty of grabbing a glass from someone sitting next to her and downing it in a single gulp. The man looked like he was about to object until she flashed him a stare that convinced him there was nothing he could do about his lost drink other than getting himself a new one. Drakken left the karaoke club in hurry, and Shego caught up with him outside on the sidewalk. It was evening, and they walked together beneath streetlights on their way to the parking lot behind the club.

"Hey, what's the hurry?" she asked her boss. "I've never seen you so eager to stop doing karaoke. Was it something about that last song you were singing?"

"No. Why would you suggest that, Shego?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe because it was a song about moms and you were singing it like you had a cat trying to claw its way out of your throat and you have a whacked out dysfunctional relationship with your mom. I mean, that's just my wild guess, but what do I know."

"My relationship with my mother is completely healthy, thank you very much."

"When did you last call her?"

Drakken was silent as the two of them went into the parking lot behind the club. A car honked at them to get out of the way, its lights flashing in their eyes as it pulled up. Shego was happy to move aside and clear the way, although she made sure to drag her flame-engulfed hand along the side of the car as it passed them. Hopefully they would enjoy their new racing stripe.

"I would have called her more recently," said Drakken in a lagging attempt to justify himself, "but she's been off on a vacation with her new boyfriend. I have no idea when she will be available."

"Oh, right! That guy you brought up a couple times, that you keep insisting you're _totally_ fine with your mom dating."

"Yes, Shego. That guy."

"You know who he is yet?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Right. Because your mom just hasn't told you yet, during the numerous calls you make to her."

"Oh, fine! So I don't talk to my mother much. She can be stifling, Shego. Always nosing around in my business and dropping by when I least expect it – sometimes it's more than a man can take! I won't pretend I like this strange dating thing she has going on now, but at least it's kept her out of my hair for a while."

"At least you're being honest now."

The two of them reached the hovercraft, which had been parked in the middle of two spaces. Drakken had outfitted the hovercraft with a hologram that made it look like a Humvee, just in case anyone thought there was something suspicious about a hovercraft parked downtown. Or, even worse, if Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable happened to be walking by and recognized it. Shego hadn't bothered mentioning that some people would give their vehicle trouble just because it looked like a Humvee. Besides, there was a charged electrical field all around it so that anyone who got too close received a nasty shock. That one had been Shego's idea.

"_Aargh!_" screamed Drakken as he promptly shocked himself, forgetting to switch off the electric field with a remote.

"Nice, Doctor D. Taking the security system for a test drive."

"Yes. Exactly what I was doing, Shego."

Drakken turned off the electric field and the hologram, and the two of them got into the hovercraft and lifted off. Shego had taken the liberty of grabbing the pilot's seat. Drakken knew better than to object. They sped through the air on their way to their latest lair, and Shego enjoyed a cool breeze whipping through her black hair. Now that she had some distance from the club, she had to admit that it wasn't as bad as some of the karaoke nights Drakken had dragged her to in the past, despite that awkward maternally-themed finale.

Drakken's family was an interesting subject. Now that Shego thought about it, she really didn't know much about his parents. She wasn't sure if she had ever even heard him say anything about his father, much less seen the man herself. Was he dead? Long-since divorced? Did Drakken even know who his father was? She remembered a few occasions where the subject had come up in the course of conversation, but Drakken always brushed it off quickly and moved to another topic.

His mother was almost as much of a mystery, when Shego thought about it. How Claudia Lipsky could be so clueless about her son's real profession boggled the mind. She wondered why Drakken even bothered to hide it with the radio talk show host excuse. She personally liked to be open about her evil proclivities. Sure, it meant she was estranged from her own family, but that was just the way the cookie crumbled. No big loss, anyway. They drove her nuts.

Considering the breakneck speeds at which Shego liked to pilot the hovercraft, it wasn't long before they reached Drakken's lair. His current one was located in a forest outside of Lowerton, far enough away to avoid attention but close enough to go into town and not be too far from Middleton – which, for some reason, Drakken seemed to always gravitate towards. The whole Midwestern tri-city area, as well as Go City, seemed like an epicenter for superhero and supervillain activity for reasons beyond Shego's understanding. She personally thought Drakken would be better served staying as far away from their teen foes as possible, but then again, she did enjoy getting as many opportunities as possible to beat Possible down. And it wasn't like Kim ever had trouble finding them, no matter where they were.

Night was rapidly descending over the landscape, and the lights of Lowerton sparkled behind them as they traveled out to the woods beyond the town. The hovercraft flew over darkened treetops until they reached an opening in the forest, just past the glimmer of a nearby stream winding below the trees. The visible part of Drakken's new lair looked like a quaint woodland cottage standing in its little clearing, although it was bigger than the usual cottage. It boasted two stories and a higher-than-average number of satellite dishes, antennas, and other devices jutting out from its shingled roof. Buried beneath the cottage was the bulk of Drakken's actual facility, subterranean and hidden from the casual observer.

Shego had to admit it was more inconspicuous than their usual lairs. They used to have lairs like rich people had summer homes, before the Diablo incident, but after that scheme failed, Shego and Drakken seemed to have a higher profile on the radars of people like Global Justice. Shego got the impression that - strangely enough - her boss almost liked the added attention, even with the risk it brought. Drakken craved attention, after all. He wouldn't admit it, but she got the feeling their current higher profile in crime-fighting circles made up for the fact that Dementor was usually the more widely recognized name in supervillainy.

The hovercraft settled down onto a small concrete landing pad beyond the cottage's lawn, on the outskirts of the forest. The pad had a retractable top that looked like an outdoor storage shed and hid the hovercraft. The two of them left the vehicle and approached the cottage. Before they even reached the door, Shego could see they had a visitor. A small gravel road emerged from the forest and ended in a small parking area in front of the cottage, where an unfamiliar car was parked.

As they came closer, Shego felt her lips widen into a smile, then a grin. There was a message written on the back of the car. Shego got the strange feeling that her Friday was about to become one of the best ones she'd ever experienced. There was only one person she could think of who liked to visit Drakken by surprise. Other than Kimmie and her sidekick, anyway.

"Shego," said Drakken as he stopped in his tracks, "does that say what I think it says?"

Shego nodded in delight.

"Sure does, Doctor D."

Drakken forced himself to continue walking towards the front door, stepping onto the slate patio and turning the brass knob. Shego passed the car and read the _Just Married_ message scrawled over the back window. She noted the tin cans tied to the back bumper before following Drakken into the cottage.

"I could have sworn she had only gone on a few dates," he muttered. "Too fast, too fast..."

No sooner had Shego entered the kitchen than she saw Drakken's mother sitting at the table sipping a cup of tea. Her suspicions were confirmed. Things were about to get exciting.

"Drewbie!" exclaimed Claudia Lipsky as she got up and shuffled over to embrace her son in a hug. Despite being much taller than her, Drakken looked like he was about to be crushed under the force of his mother's arms. She released him to give Shego a hug as well, and she endured it patiently. A hug was no problem compared to the enjoyment that was sure to come from this situation.

"Mother, did you get married?"

"I sure did, honey! And guess what? We decided to move in!"

Drakken gasped for breath as his body gave a sort of bizarre flop like a fish out of water. Shego stifled a laugh with her hand, but dropped it like a stone when Claudia Lipsky's new husband walked into the kitchen from elsewhere in the house, apparently hearing the new arrivals. This was too good to be true. There had to be a camera somewhere to capture the moment, but she didn't want to move in case she missed anything.

"Velcome back to de house, mine new son-in-law!"

Drakken's hands shot up to the sides of his head, as if trying to stop his brain from bursting out of his ears.

"_Dementor?_"

XX

* * *

_Notes - That's it for chapter one. As usual, reviews are appreciated, and anonymous reviews are enabled._

_I first got the basic idea for this story sometime shortly after _Just a Jock_, so it was quite a while ago. From what I remember, people in the KP chat room were talking about Drakken's mother marrying a new husband, and I suggested Dementor because I thought it would be funny and awkward. The more I thought about it, however, the more potential I saw in the idea, not just for humor but also drama. I kept meaning to get started on this, but I thought it would be difficult for various reasons and put it off, and sometimes I just ended up writing other things first. It got to the point I was starting to think this story idea was cursed or something, hehe. But here it is._

_This is going to be a long, possibly my longest story once it's finished. I'm nowhere near finishing it, but I've made some good progress already and I do have the overall plot arc mapped out, including the final scene and line which will end the story. I'm pretty excited about this one, so I'm interested in hearing what everybody thinks. I don't know quite when I'll put up the next chapter since I'm still a little undecided on the arrangement of a few things, but put this on story alerts if you want to keep up with it._

_Thanks for reading!_


	2. Home Invasion

**Home Invasion**

XX

No sooner had Kim's mother opened the door to the Possible home than Ron burst through and made a beeline for the kitchen, gasping for breath as he ground to a halt. Jim and Tim were sitting at the table, along with his girlfriend, but he saw no food. It was either a good sign or a very bad sign.

"Am I late?"

"No Ron, you're early. James isn't home with the food yet."

"Booyah!"

Ron sat down at the table and wondered if he should have a snack before Mr. Dr. P. arrived with the pizza. Jim and Tim gave each other a mischievous look as they greeted Ron. He was fairly sure that meant they were about to test some new dangerous invention on him as soon as he wasn't looking, but he didn't mind. Getting invited over to the Possible's place for pizza on Friday was always a highlight of his week. Although he came over for pizza every week. And he didn't really need an invitation, either.

"So Ron," said Anne as she took some paper plates from a kitchen cupboard, "did you have fun at the new shopping complex in Lowerton? Kim didn't force you to go shopping at Club Banana for two hours, did she?"

"Like I would _ever_ do that, mom."

Anne winked at her daughter.

"I didn't go with them," said Ron. "I was playing some Zombie Mayhem with my friend Felix. When Kim and Monique are both involved, it's like shopping to the next level!"

"Excuse me," said Kim, "but I'm pretty sure last time we went to Club Banana in the Middleton Mall, you spent about an hour picking out a new pair of pants, mister 'I won't shop anywhere except Smarty Mart'. And you _know_ they're just going to fly off or get torn apart whenever you wear them on a mission."

"Some of the selection caught my eye," Ron said defensively.

Anne got a pizza cutter from a drawer. "I didn't know Monique was shopping with you, Kim," she said. "How's she doing?"

"Good. I think she has the hots for Josh Mankey."

Ron slapped his hand on the table. "I _knew_ I was noticing something going on between them!"

"Kim's old boooyfriend!" said Jim, nudging his brother on the shoulder.

"Yeah," added Tim, "are you jealous, Kim?"

"Um, totally not, tweebs. I'm very happy with the boyfriend I have right now."

"What?" said Ron. "KP, you have a new boyfriend? Who?"

"I'm talking about _you_, dork."

Ron was pleased – and a little taken aback – when Kim leaned forward and gave him a kiss to drive her point home, ignoring the disgusted retching sounds her twin brothers made. Ron definitely got the point. Right before they broke apart, he heard the front door open and a familiar voice speak up.

"Pizza's here!"

Dinner had arrived. Although Ron was a little disappointed to end his kiss with Kim, dinner was not a bad consolation prize. He stared eagerly at the kitchen entrance along with Kim's brothers as James Possible appeared with two pizza boxes balanced in one hand and his keys in the other. He threw the keys on a counter and put the pizza boxes down. They barely hit the kitchen table before eager hands flung the lids open and picked the pies apart. Even Kim was fast on the draw, as she was kind of hungry after an afternoon of shopping.

"How wath work?" she asked her father through a mouthful of pepperoni and extra cheese.

"Very good, Kimmie-cub. Thanks for asking."

"Got that moon launch all ready to go?"

"You betcha. There's still work left to do, but as far as I can tell so far, rockets are go! We're even going to hire an intern or two to help out with the final stages of the project that are coming up. The Space Center's been a little understaffed ever since people started transferring to that new center in Go City with the fancy little indoor gym and swimming pool."

James narrowed his eyes for a moment, inadvertently crushing a paper cup filled with soda that he had just filled. Ron coughed awkwardly and ate his pizza in silence, knowing how Kim's father felt about the new Space Center in Go City. The subject had come up a few times already. He was about to change the subject when a strange sound, shrill but faint, traveled through the air.

"Did you hear that?" asked Jim and Tim in unison.

Kim nodded, but both her parents paused in mid-bite, looking confused. "Hear what?" asked Anne.

"I heard it too," said Ron. "It almost sounded like a scream."

XX

Drakken's scream trailed off as the remaining air trickled out of his lungs. Shego, Dementor, and his mother were holding their hands to their ears and wincing; once they noticed he was done, they carefully lowered them. Drakken considered screaming again, but decided he had already tired himself out with the first one.

"Dat is _Professor_ Dementor, if you please."

"I do not please! Mother, _this_ man is your new husband?"

Claudia Lipsky gave her son a nod and a smile as she pulled Dementor closer, wrapping her arms around him and shaking him back and forth in an enthusiastic bear hug. Although Claudia was not a tall woman, she had a few inches on her new husband. Almost everyone was taller than Dementor, when it came down to it.

"He's my handsome little Hansybear!" cooed Claudia.

"Hansybear?"

"Hans," said Dementor. "It is mine first name. Hans Demenz."

Although Dementor's voice was a little choked off from Claudia's hug, the two of them broke apart and gave each other a passionate kiss. Drakken watched in horror; he glanced over at Shego to confirm that he wasn't hallucinating and she was seeing it too, but his henchwoman was nowhere to be found. How she could disappear at a time like this was beyond his understanding. He considered calling her back and ordering her to attack his foe. But no, he thought. That wouldn't do. He needed to attack Dementor himself.

"You'll pay for this!" shouted Drakken as he leaped forward and grabbed Dementor by the neck. His tiny hands didn't even fit around it, but he put up a valiant effort anyway. "I don't know what it is you're paying for exactly, but you'll pay all right!"

"Drewbie, what are you doing? Quit that right now!"

Drakken clung to Dementor like a leech as his nemesis staggered around, trying to shake him off, having just switched from a crushing bear hug from his wife to another one from his enemy. Claudia followed the two of them around, hitting her son with a flower-patterned purse she had left on the kitchen counter earlier. As Drakken tried feebly to choke Dementor, he looked over the man's helmet and noticed Shego standing in the entryway to the kitchen, taking pictures with a camera. _Now_ he knew why she had disappeared a moment ago.

"Shego! Help me!"

"Don't think so, Drakken. This is too good to stop."

Dementor finally shook Drakken off, massaging his neck a little. "Dose tiny hands," he said, "I am surprised at zeir power! Now perhaps you could sit down and take a deep breath?"

Although his rage still boiled, Drakken's futile attempt to choke his foe had tired him out a little. He felt himself calming down enough to sit, at least for a moment. That purse had been filled with something heavy, and he didn't want to make his mother hit him with it anymore. Not to mention she had a surprisingly powerful swinging arm.

"What a way to treat your new father, Drewbie!"

"He's not my father!"

"He is _now_, sweetie-pie. We just got back from our honeymoon in Hawaii!"

"I don't understand, mother. This is the man you said you met on the internet dating site?"

"That's right."

"I thought you only went out on a few dates! And you never told me you were going out with Dementor!"

"Why do you keep calling him that?"

Before Drakken could answer, Dementor cut him off with a loud cough and spoke up himself. "It is mine name on de radio show," he told Claudia.

Drakken sputtered in shock at what he had just heard. Even Shego looked a little surprised.

"You – you on the – radio show – you – what?"

"He's got a radio show, honey! Just like you!"

At a loss for words, Drakken stared wild-eyed as Dementor gave him an insistent nod. At first he felt a rising urge to throttle the man again. A radio show? Had Dementor heard his mother talking about his cover profession and decided to copy it? He had to stop himself from telling his mother what Dementor really did for a living – the accusation was about to fling itself from his lips when he held it back at the last moment. If he outed Dementor for who he really was, his foe could just as easily out him as a supervillain in retaliation. His nemesis in villainy definitely seemed to have some villainous tricks up his sleeve.

Drakken tried to make heads or tails of what was going on, but it was all too much to take in. Before he could sort out his thoughts, glassware throughout the kitchen began to vibrate as a loud rumbling sound poured in from outside. Drakken got up from his seat at the kitchen table and pulled aside some white window drapes to peer out into the yard beyond the cottage. Whatever this new development was, it was even more unwelcome than seeing Dementor taking far too many physical liberties with his mother. Although not quite as nauseating.

"And who exactly are _those_ people?" demanded Drakken, pointing at the window, beyond which a number of bulky transport vehicles had just pulled up to the cottage near his mother's car. He looked back at his foe; Dementor gave him a silent smirk. He turned back to the window and found his question answered by the sight of numerous henchmen dressed in familiar uniforms piling out of their transport vehicles and approaching the house. Dementor wasn't the only one moving in to Drakken's lair, by the looks of things. It was a hostile takeover!

XX

The command center was Drakken's last refuge. Everything was being overrun by Dementor's goons. They had swarmed in like a plague of beefy locusts, forcing him to retreat to the lower levels as they brought in equipment and personal belongings. He could hear them over his head, in the upper levels of the lair and in the cottage above ground, tramping and smashing their way back and forth as they infiltrated his lair. Every once in a while one of them popped into the command center – maybe to ask a question, maybe just to see what was kind of a room it was – but Drakken shooed them out angrily. They seemed to be everywhere.

Since it was Friday, Drakken had given his own henchmen the weekend off before he really got down to business with his new plan, and they had all raced to freedom as fast as their lazy little legs could carry them. Even if his henchmen had been around for Dementor's invasion, he wasn't sure what they could do. Dementor's henchmen were always more well-trained, quicker on their feet. It was like the everything the stocky little man touched turned to evil gold. And now, once again, he had gained the upper hand as he took over Drakken's lair before he even knew what had hit him.

"Excuse me, sir," said another henchman who appeared out of nowhere on the far end of the command center, "we were just wondering if we could wheel a few-"

"Get OUT!" screeched Drakken. "I demand privacy!"

The henchman scurried away as Drakken paced back and forth on a slightly raised platform near the front of the command center. He looked at the overhead screens around him, and then out at the touch-terminals and servers and doo-dads that made up the beating heart of his operation. He wanted to try to keep Dementor's henchmen out of this room, at the least, but he knew it was a lost cause. They were already everywhere, probably breaking equipment and messing up his delicately arranged lair decorations if they weren't outright stealing all his precious technology.

_If you can't beat them_, thought Drakken, _marry their mothers!_

Even by his own standards, Dementor's latest gambit seemed particularly insidious. Drakken prided himself on being creative as far as evil geniuses went, but he doubted he would ever stoop _that_ low. Not that he couldn't do it if he wanted to. He had never met Dementor's mother, but all he had to do was whip out a little of the old Drew Lipsky charm that had worked so well in college, and he could get any lady he wanted to do his bidding...

"Yo, Doctor D!"

Drakken turned at the sound of his right hand woman's voice. It was a welcome change from Dementor's intrusive henchmen, although he found himself inadvertently shielding his face for just a moment until noticing Shego no longer had her camera with her. She could be downright cruel sometimes.

"Shego, good to see you. We need to figure out how to handle this situation."

"Oh yeah? What situation is that?"

"Dementor taking over my lair, of course."

"Looks like he's already done that, Doctor D."

"Thank you for stating the obvious, Shego. How do we drive him out?"

Shego leaned against a railing on the side of the raised platform on which the two of them stood, looking out over the empty command center. "I dunno," she said. "You could call the henchmen back and start a battle with Dementor's henchmen, I guess. I don't think they'll be happy about coming back to work on a Friday night, though."

"Hmm, I suppose not. What else can we do?"

"We could just wait it out and see what Dementor's up to."

"You'd love that, wouldn't you? You seem to be having the time of your life."

"What can I say, it's pretty funny."

Drakken muttered indignantly. All he had left was Shego, and even she was against him. Sort of.

"You could just ask Dementor what he's up to."

"Isn't it obvious? My guess is the man must have had another lair destroyed by Kim Possible and her sidekick, and he's decided to save some money by commandeering my lair instead of building a new one himself. Let me assure you, Shego, Dementor has no professional pride whatsoever! The man was always a cheapskate, always willing to steal the hard work of others if it saved him a little time."

"Wow. If it isn't the pot calling the kettle cheap."

"Black, Shego. The pot and the kettle are both black."

"Yeah, I know, I switched it up for your situation."

"Ah yes. Wait, are you suggesting that I'm being hypocritical?"

Shego slapped a hand to her forehead. Before Drakken could defend himself, yet another one of Dementor's goons interrupted their conversation, this time having walked into the command center and crossed to the communications platform without either of them noticing they had a visitor. Drakken jumped at the sight of the man.

"Sorry," said the henchman. "We were just wondering which guest bedroom you wanted Dementor and your mom to move into?"

"_What?_"

Shego burst out into a raucous laugh, but stifled it when Drakken threw her an evil eye. He turned to the henchman, not sure whether to order the man to leave his sight or ask for clarification. But there was nothing to clarify. He had heard exactly what the man said. Images began to swirl through his head as he considered the implications of what was going on. Images of Dementor, upstairs in the cottage with his mother, moving in to one of the guest bedrooms. Maybe the one with the foldout bed. Horrible, terrifying images that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy. Except maybe Dementor, which didn't really make much sense as Dementor was involved in the images which was the whole reason Drakken was fighting back the urge to vomit-

"Shego! Come with me!"

Drakken waved impatiently and pushed past Dementor's henchman as he made his way to an elevator that took them up out of the subterranean lair and into the cottage itself. Drakken stepped inside the elevator, joined by Shego and Dementor's henchman, and pressed the 'G' button as he tried to keep his hand from quivering with rage. Elevator music began to play, vexing Drakken even more. Shego whistled along with it. He would need to make a mental note to find something a little less obnoxious for elevator tunes than a smooth jazz version of the Oh Boyz.

The elevator came to a halt, and the doors slid open to a scene of chaos and confusion. Dementor's henchmen were milling about, laughing and joking, bringing in equipment from outside where their little convoy had parked all over his front yard. Drakken glanced into the kitchen; some of them even appeared to have raided his refrigerator. They were now sitting around the kitchen table, eating his food and reading some of his magazines. It was a travesty. An affront to his dignity on all possible levels!

"Dementor, where are you?"

Drakken stamped up the stairway to the second floor of the cottage. It was quite a big cottage. Down a short hallway were two guest rooms, although one was sort of an unused study. It did not take long for Drakken to find Dementor and his mother looking around in one of them. He cringed; it was the guest bedroom he was using as a storage closet, chock full of some of his excess inventions. His mother ran a hand over them, oohing and aahing along with her new husband, although – as usual – she was completely oblivious as to what they were.

"What are you two doing?"

"Ve are inspecting our new room," said Dementor. "Zere is no hurry, but as soon as de henchmen have finished with the moving in, we vill bring our personal belongings up here und set up the room."

"Absolutely not! This is where I keep my – uh, any radio equipment I'm not using downstairs."

"Yes, I haf seen this," said Dementor. "But your mother likes dis room!"

"It doesn't matter! I will not-"

"Ve shall move into zis room IMMEDIATELY!"

Dementor's voice rose to a crescendo in order to illustrate his point, but he realized he had just contradicted himself and held a finger to his lips as he reconsidered his proclamation. "I meant to say dat we will move in after mine henchmen haf settled. But zen, we move in IMMEDIATELY!"

"Come on, Drewbie," pleaded his mother. "This one's just perfect! Look at that view out the window!"

Claudia shuffled over to the window and drew the drapes aside to look out at the woodland scenery. The bedroom was on the far side of the cottage, away from the mass of vehicles and commotion that Dementor's henchmen had brought with them out front, and the view was indeed gorgeous. Shego joined Drakken's mother by the window and peered out at the scenery, nodding her head in agreement.

"Listen to your mom, Doctor D."

"Not helping, Shego!"

Claudia walked over to her son and gave him a pat on the back. "Honey, I know this is all a big change for you, but I think it's gonna work out just wonderfully for everybody! You just don't know Hans like I do!"

It took a few moments for Drakken to remember his mother was referring to Dementor's actual name. "I'm afraid I know him very well, mother," he said, giving his foe the evil eye. "We've been competing in the radio business for a long time."

"I know, Drewbie. He told me all about it!"

"Did he now?"

"Oh yes. It's so silly, all that drama. But you know what? Now that me and Hansy-poo are moving in, maybe the two of you can work together and make an even better radio show!"

"I'd rather be torn apart by wild dogs!" screamed Drakken, clenching his fists into tiny little balls of impotent rage. Claudia gave a good-natured chuckle and rolled her eyes at her husband, who smiled amiably back.

"Oh, my son, always a kidder! Tell you what, Drewbie, why don't you give Hans a little tour of your radio station downstairs? Don't you think that'd be nice?"

"Dat would be very satisfactory," agreed Dementor.

That smile. That impudent smirk. It was enough to make Drakken consider rooting around the guest bedroom for the phase blaster he was sure he had thrown away a while ago. His mother began to move scattered equipment and inventions aside, but Drakken stopped her abruptly and called in some henchmen to do the job instead. Although they were under Dementor's payroll, they promptly appeared and began clearing the room for Dementor and Claudia to move in. Drakken didn't know what else to do, and he didn't want his mother handling dangerous devices.

Giving Dementor a tour of his lair was the last thing he had been planning to do on a Friday night, but he was between a rock and a hard place. At this point his enemy could do what he wanted anyway, and as much as she was exasperating him beyond anything he thought humanly possible, Drakken still didn't want to displease his mother.

"Fine," he said with a sigh of resignation. "A tour it is. Dementor, follow me."

XX

Seconds, minutes, hours ticked away. Drakken began to feel like the tour would never end.

He watched as Dementor minutely inspected every detail of a small test room he had set up for cryogenic freezing. There wasn't even that much going on in the room; he began to think Dementor was just drawing things out as much as possible to exasperate him. Shego was upstairs, having declined to join them; the last thing Drakken had seen before they took the elevator down from the cottage was Shego betraying him by playing cards with some of Dementor's goons. _Traitor_. Now he had to suffer Dementor's presence all by himself.

Drakken watched as his enemy fiddled with his valuable equipment. At this point he had given up trying to get the man to keep his hands to himself. He had originally set up the small testing chamber to perform cryogenic experiments and work towards building a new freeze ray that would top the one he had used to seal Kim Possible in a lake with a shark and squid. Soon after beginning his experiments, however, Shego had told him of a failed scheme she had heard about a while ago where the Seniors had stolen Pop Pop Porter's freezing device. Hearing about the Seniors' failed freezing scheme had dampened his spirits a little - but more significantly, it had made him think about the benefits of cryogenics for food preservation. His test room, as a result, was mainly a high-tech walk-in freezer now.

"Fascinating," said Dementor, using a gloved hand to gingerly pull an object from a cryogenic tube.

"Be careful! Don't break it."

"Vat is this? Some kind of biological sample?"

"Correct. A roasted turkey leg."

Dementor looked like he was considering biting into the frozen piece of meat for a moment, but then thought better of it, returning it to its container and pushing the container back into its wall receptacle. He motioned for the two of them to leave the room. "Let us continue," he said as Drakken trudged wearily behind him. "By the way, how much living space do you haf down here for de henchmen? I assume zey do not all live in the cottage upstairs?"

"No," said Drakken. "They have barracks, although I usually let them go home on weekends."

"Home? Dat does not instill discipline."

"My lair, my rules!"

Dementor shook his head disapprovingly. "Either way, mine henchmen will need to move in tonight, so some people may have to do some of the double-bunking now that ve are staying in the lair."

"And how _long_ do you plan on staying?" asked Drakken.

Dementor ignored his question and continued looking through the lair. Drakken pointed things out here and there as they passed through hallways and laboratories. His pride continually overpowered his sullen mood and forced him to brag a little, but he still hated the fact that his enemy was not only at the gates but completely past the gates, standing right next to him and gawking at things like a complete fool.

The tour had been excruciating, but Drakken was surprised at how little Dementor seemed to be criticizing things. He wondered if the man was really impressed by the lair. Maybe he wasn't used to seeing a place with a little style, as opposed to the formulaic out-of-the-box lairs that Drakken was sure his enemy must have been using most of the time. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that Dementor was jealous. Why else would the man take over his lair instead of just using one of his own, after all?

"Vat is past dese big doors here?" asked Dementor.

"The command center."

"Oooh! How exciting!"

Drakken cursed inwardly, wishing he had passed them off as unimportant. Dementor pushed through the doors before he could object, soiling the heart of his evil enterprise by his very presence. Maybe not, though – Drakken noticed several of Dementor's henchmen were already in the room when the two of them entered, apparently having come in while he was upstairs dealing with the guest room fiasco.

The two henchmen nodded to their boss when he entered before returning their attention to something they were watching on a small monitor on a desk in the command center's henchman work area. Drakken looked closer and realized it was a scene of the forest clearing in front of the cottage, where Dementor's trucks and utility vehicles were parked, being transmitted by one of the security cameras tucked beneath the eaves of the cottage's roof.

They were already commandeering his security system now. Wonderful.

Dementor stepped onto the raised platform at the head of the command center, surrounded by large electronic viewing screens hung from the ceiling which were currently shut off. Their blank, black visages reflected Dementor's stocky frame as he looked up at them. In the center of the command center's main platform was a large glass table, polished and translucent, on top of which a number of documents were scattered. Drakken cringed as his foe looked down at them; he realized that in all the chaos and confusion of the last few hours, he had forgotten to clean up the blueprints and paperwork for his latest scheme.

"Interesting," said Dementor. "Quite interesting. Dis is what you plan to do next in your quest for ze world domination, no?"

Drakken nodded as he approached the table and looked down at his plans. He knew telling them to Dementor was a bad idea, but it was too late to hide them, and he could feel an urge to gloat coming over him. If Dementor was impressed by his lair, maybe he would be impressed by his new scheme as well. He always like talking about his plans for world domination to whoever was conveniently nearby, which was usually Shego, or sometimes Kim Possible and her buffoon of a sidekick tied to some doomsday device.

"As you can see," said Drakken, "I am planning to create a computer program consisting of a series of subliminal messages and hypnotic imagery and sounds. The program will trigger a state of hypnosis in whoever sees it, and they will go catatonic until I release them from their state. I haven't nailed down the details yet, but I plan to release it over the internet, thereby casting my spell over the world and removing any defense against my power. I don't know how I will release the program as a virus yet. Perhaps through mass emailing. I shall title it something tempting, like 'Britina Bikini Pics Unauthorized!' perhaps. The teens love her, don't they? Don't get me wrong, it's not as if I would _personally_ know, I am barely aware of who Britina even is, let me assure you. Anyway, as soon as-"

"NO!" shouted Dementor.

Drakken gasped in shock as his enemy leaned over the top of the table and cast out an arm, brushing the papers and blueprints contemptuously onto the floor. The table now cleared, Dementor turned back to the two henchmen who were monitoring Drakken's security systems. "Bring me my PLAAANS!" he screeched.

Drakken winced and shook his head to get rid of the ringing as the two henchmen ran over to some kind of box they had left near their station, opening it and standing up with an armful of rolled up documents and papers. They stepped onto the platform and dumped Dementor's plans out over the table, sorting them out carefully.

"Here you go, boss," said one of the henchmen.

"Thank you, Myron."

"Would you like a coffee or anything?"

"No, I would not."

"Getting ready for Operation Moonshaker already, huh?"

"Dat is correct," said Dementor. "I must show mine foolish son-in-law how to PROPERLY dominate ze world!"

"You don't know the first thing about world domination!" cried Drakken as he stooped over to pick up his fallen plans, which had scattered all across the floor. One of Dementor's henchmen leaned over to help him out, which Drakken grudgingly appreciated.

"Dat is vere you are mistaken, my son!"

"I am _not_ your son, Dementor."

"Claudia and I are indeed married, Drakken. I haf the documents to prove it, if you wish to see them!"

"I will admit that your little ploy is impressive, Dementor. Marrying my mother to take over my lair? Even Shego would never do such a thing, and she tested as more evil than I am!"

"Vat? Are you saying Shego is attracted to Claudia?"

"Of course not!"

Drakken found himself getting increasingly confused, especially at the thought of Shego marrying his mother. He had thought nothing could be worse than the way things were now, but that situation would definitely be worse. And more bizarre. "Look," he said, trying to get back on track, "you may have fooled my mother, but you haven't fooled me, Dementor. You've won the battle but you won't be winning the war. You think you can just waltz in here and take everything from me without any consequences? Think again!"

"I happen to be very much in love with your mother," said Dementor. "I vas not even AWARE dat she was your mother until after we began with the dating. Moving into your lair iz just an unexpected bonus!"

"You'd like to me to believe that, wouldn't you? Why in the world would you be in love with my mother? And it's ludicrous – you're younger than I am! Are you even in your 40's yet?"

"Vat?" asked Dementor. "You are in de 40's already? Hah!"

Drakken narrowed his eyes until they could narrow no more. Insulting him under his own roof, marrying his mother, and manhandling his cryogenically frozen meats and vegetables. The man had no boundaries at all.

"So what exactly _is_ your plan?" snapped Drakken. "Let me guess, steal the Pan-dimensional Vortex Inducer?"

Dementor was about to pull a schematic closer on the table and point to it in triumph when he frowned. His two henchmen, who were standing nearby, looked at each other nervously as Dementor stared at his schematic for a moment before looking up at Drakken, his eyes staring balefully from under the top of his helmet.

"Vy do you say it like dat?" said Dementor. "Like it is a bad plan?"

"You really _are_ stealing the Pan-dimensional Vortex Inducer?"

The awkward silence emanating from Dementor and his two henchmen was enough of an answer for Drakken. He held his hands to his stomach and laughed uproariously. Why he had been feeling insecure about his own plan was beyond him. Not that he had ever been feeling insecure, he corrected himself. But it was obvious now which one of the two of them had the creativity that world domination demanded. His own plan was original – completely original! Other than a tiny, negligible influence coming from Frugal Lucre while they were in prison, but that wasn't even worth mentioning.

"What is it with you and that stupid device?" laughed Drakken.

"Must I remind you dat YOU vere attempting to steal it in the past as well?" snapped Dementor. "More than once, if I remember correctly. Did I not hear a story about you stealing it for a ridiculous invention of yours that ended up getting you und your green-skinned sidekick stuck in de television?"

Drakken's laughter died away his foe reminded him of the unfortunate incident with Mr. Sit Down. Maybe Dementor was right - but only by chance. How Dementor had heard about the television channel debacle was beyond Drakken. But then, any time Kim and Ron defeated a supervillain, the embarrassing details of the villain's failed plot always seemed to make the rounds in the evil community somehow. Maybe those two teens were real blabbermouths. Teens were always gossiping and back talking, after all.

"Besides," said Dementor, "it is not as if stealing the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer is the only step of mine plan, you craven FOOL!"

"What else are you going to do, then?"

"Nothing! It is not for you to know!"

"No fair!" whined Drakken. "You already heard most of my plan!"

"You should haf thought of dat before you told it to me! Besides, ve are not doing your plan - it is stupid. Ve are doing DIS plan," said Dementor as he stabbed emphatically at a schematic with his finger. "MINE!"

The two henchmen leaned over and joined their leader as the three of them pored over the plans, muttering excitedly to one another while Drakken stood awkwardly by. Their callous disregard for his clearly superior scheme was enough to make his blood boil. Shego had said something earlier about waiting a while and seeing how things turned out – Drakken supposed he had no choice, but maybe it was a good policy anyway. Let Dementor think he's won, for now. Dementor could follow his plan all he wanted, but Drakken would have no part of it.

And just as soon as his enemy let his guard down, Drakken would make his move. Dementor would rue the day he ever married into the Lipsky family.

XX

* * *

_It took a little longer than usual for me to post this chapter. I've been going through a serious lack of motivation lately in terms of writing, I don't know why. But I hope you guys liked this one! _

_Also, I realize Myron might be in this story a little early considering he showed up in the second to last KP episode, but I thought it was unclear in that episode how long he had already been working under Dementor, and frankly I find him funny, so he's going to be in this story, albeit infrequently. It might be stretching canon, but I thought it was worth having him around. :-p_


	3. Drew and His Toys

**Drew and His Toys**

XX

Evening had fallen over Middleton. For a Midwestern city of its size, Middleton bustled with more activity than might be expected, even in the dead of night, and so a core of car and street lights twinkled in the heart of the city. Things got darker farther out; the suburbs on the outskirts of the city were much calmer and quieter. Lights still shone from living room windows, however. Cul-de-sacs and quiet roads were occasionally lit by much more widely spaced street lamps, but beyond the occasional car taking its driver back from a late work day, the only sounds that could be heard were the conversations of families eating at their dinner tables. Inside one such modest house at the end of a cul-de-sac, a family of three was just about to eat theirs together.

A young woman, somewhat pudgy and with bright red hair, came out of the kitchen with a plate in each hand. "Here's food!" announced Claudia Lipsky. Her son craned his neck in anticipation, trying to see what was on the plates, but he didn't have to wait long; she set one plate in front of him and one in front of her husband.

"What's all this, mother?"

"Vegetables, Drewbie. For a growing boy!"

Drew knew they were vegetables; he had only asked as a way to point out how much he hated seeing them on his plate. "Food that's colored green is gross!" he said with a frown.

His father looked at him severely across the table. "Eat your vegetables, boy."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

Drew grumbled and stabbed viciously at his vegetables for a few moments before collecting a few small pieces on his fork for a bite. There were peas, corn, and broccoli, alongside a clump of mashed potatoes which Drew thought was almost as gross as the vegetables. A piece of chicken lay on the plate, but in Drew's opinion, his portion was at least 90% green stuff and mashed potato. Which was completely unfair.

"How was work?" Claudia asked as she returned from the kitchen with her own portion and took a seat across from her husband. Ken Lipsky, who had been carefully cutting his chicken into bite-sized pieces, looked dully up from his plate and considered the question.

"Fine."

"Have they hired anyone to pick up the slack yet?"

Ken shook his head. "Nobody wants to join with the way things have been lately. People don't have any civic spirit anymore. Public service doesn't mean anything if you're not making enough money."

Drew watched curiously as his father went back to his eating. His mother shrugged and began eating her own food with a pleasant smile. The mashed potatoes looked like they'd be fun to play with – maybe he could mold them into a castle or a mountain - but he knew his dad would be angry at him if he didn't hurry up and eat. The table fell silent as the three of them dug in. Drew would have liked to listen to the television, but his dad insisted it be turned off until after meals were over.

Drew made a great effort, and soon his plate was picked clean. His father glanced over to give the plate an inspection before nodding curtly, acknowledging that his son had finished Drew's mother finished her own meal and stood up to take the plates into the kitchen and wash them off. Now that dinner was over – and since his father looked he had been happy with his son's thorough vegetable and mashed potato eating – Drew began to wonder if he could push his luck a little.

"I'm gonna go upstairs and play with my toys," he said.

He scooted the chair back and stood up carefully, testing to see what kind of reaction he would get. He stepped away from the table, about to make his way towards the stairs behind his father's seat. After a few steps, however, his father cleared his throat loudly without turning around. Drew froze. He had come so close!

"Don't you have homework that needs to be done?"

"Not that much, dad. It'll be easy to do!"

"Doesn't matter," said Ken. "I want you working on homework after dinner. No stalling and no procrastinating. You can't be playing with toys when you need to get your work done. You're getting too old to be playing with those dolls, anyway."

"But father, I just thought-"

"We've gotten one too many complaints from your teachers about you not paying attention in class, Drew. You need to do your homework. No excuses!"

There was no arguing with his father. Drew grumbled, about to go up the stairs, when the phone in the kitchen rang. His father got up to answer, as phone calls were usually for him, but Drew decided to wait a bit before going up the stairs. He didn't really have any friends in school who would call him, but he could always hope. Not to mention that it was a distraction which gave him a few more moments of freedom before he'd have to focus on the assignments due tomorrow. They wouldn't take that long, but Drew hated the busywork his teachers gave him. Mrs. Perkins in particular was just doing it to be mean. He was almost sure of it.

"Yes sir," he heard his father saying from the kitchen. "I'll be there soon."

Drew's father emerged from the kitchen along with his wife, who had finished washing the plates. Claudia looked at her husband while she began to clear the rest of the table. "More work?" she asked. "Why are they calling you in so late?"

"Crime never sleeps," said Ken.

"I just wish they'd give you more time to spend with the family. Nowadays it's harder and harder to get a chance for all of us to have meals together, you know? They should hire more people!"

"I have to go," said Ken. He gave his wife a quick kiss on the cheek before noticing his son, still standing near the kitchen table. "Drew," he said sternly, "I told you to go do your homework."

"Yes, sir."

Drew made his way towards the stairs as his father went out the front door. Now that his father was off to work again, it was possible he could skip doing the homework. He considered it, but decided not to risk it. Drew knew his father might be angry if he came back to find him playing with toys. Although anytime his father got called out at night, Drew usually had go to bed before he got back. But still – it was probably better not to push his luck. It was best not to break his father's rules.

XX

By the time Ken Lipsky got to the police station and changed into his uniform, the place was already buzzing with activity. Sometimes he wondered if Frank skipped out on shifts because he had some kind of sixth sense about when busy nights were coming up.

Ken went into the station's lounge to say hello to a few of his fellow officers, who were sitting around and watching a news program on television. He wondered how long they had all been sitting there; hopefully this wouldn't be another night where he and his partner got sent out to pick up the slack while his fellow officers jawed off at the station. Ken hadn't been a full-fledged police officer for a long time, but he was already beginning to feel like he took the job more seriously than many others at the station. It was hard not to look down on them, but he knew humility and respect towards authority were important attitudes to take in his line of work. He had to respect his superiors, those with more experience, just like he respected the law.

"Hey Ken," said one of the officers. "Check it out!"

He pointed to the television, where a newscaster was talking about a speech that the Mayor of Outerton had given earlier in the day. Ken knew why they were listening to a news story about Outerton; the place was notorious for being a hotbed of crime. Its horrible name just added an extra unfortunate touch to Outerton's unsavory reputation.

"...promised to reduce corruption and expand the police force in the near future. Some sources close to the city administration believe that with a new mayor in office, the plan to hire a superhero team to protect the city might get the go-ahead. No word yet on which team that may be."

Several of the officers laughed. "Yeah right," said the one who had pointed the newscast. "They've been pulling that dusty old idea out for years! Didn't their last mayor keep yackin' on about superheroes as a big part of his campaign?"

"Sure did," said another officer.

"Maybe they could do that for Middleton," someone suggested.

Several other officers laughed at the idea, and one officer threw an empty cup at the man who had made the suggestion. "Where are you gonna find superheroes in Middleton?" he asked. "Might as well hire a cheerleader or something."

"I heard some kind of super secret organization is setting up shop in Middleton. Like an international crime fighting organization or something. Maybe they are bringing in superheroes."

A few jeers and snorts came up from around the lounge. Ken had heard those rumors himself, but it seemed a little far-fetched, and he hadn't seen any evidence of it himself. "I don't see how superheroes can do the job any better than us," he said. "You can't trust freewheeling people like that. They're never willing to work within the system of the law. One minute you think you're solving the crime problem, and the next minute you have every vigilante on the street putting on some black cape and thinking it means he can fight crime."

"The Rat Man," someone said, drawing a laugh from his fellow cops. He was referring to a low level superhero wannabe who had been on the police radar a few months ago for continually trying to arrest neighbors who annoyed him. Ken couldn't even remember why he got the nickname in the first place – maybe for ratting out his neighbors? It didn't matter, anyway. He was trying to make a point.

"When you give single people that much power," he said, "they're just going to abuse it. One day you have a superhero, but as soon as they get a taste of working outside the law and taking things into their own hands, you'll have a supervillain."

"Uh oh," shouted an officer from the other side of the room. "Ken's starting one of his sermons!"

The room broke out in laughter again, and Ken fell silent. Before he could try to defend himself, the station chief – Chief Brody - poked his head into the lounge room, causing the laughter to stop abruptly. "Lipsky," he said. "Where's Hobble?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Well, find him already! The streets are gettin' crazy tonight. I want you two out patrollin' a little, keepin' an eye on things. We got a few calls earlier you should check out, anyway."

"Yes, sir."

Chief Brody withdrew from the lounge as the officers returned to their chatter. Ken was about to find Officer Hobble when his partner emerged from the bathroom across the lounge. "Hobble, we have to go patrolling," he said.

"Okie dokie."

The two of them made their way out of the lounge, but before they could go out to the lot in back where all the patrol cars were parked, they would need to figure out what routes Frank and his partner were supposed to be patrolling. Chief Brody hadn't been very informative, and probably didn't have the information anyway. Ken made his way into the main offices in search of Frank's desk.

"So they roped you into covering tonight too, huh?" asked Officer Hobble.

"Yes, they did. I'm surprised they asked you to come when you and your wife just had a child."

"Well, Mary was a little annoyed, but I think Hobble Junior's in good hands," laughed Officer Hobble. "Besides, why would I pass up on the opportunity to go patrolling with my fun-loving partner?"

Ken allowed himself to give a tiny smile. Hobble was poking fun at him by calling him fun-loving, but he knew it wasn't mean-spirited. He got along with his partner better than most of the other officers. They may not have shared the same personality, but Ken knew that his partner was devoted to upholding the law, just like himself.

This was certainly not the first time he had been asked to cover for another officer's shift, and he felt like he hadn't been getting enough time to spend with his family lately, but he knew it was part of the job. He felt it was important to be around his son often enough to instill a sense of discipline, but the city needed discipline as well. Ken found himself in a position where he was obligated to balance both as well as he could. Crime had been going up lately, and the station was hard pressed as it was. Not enough officers, and the ones they had seemed to take an apathetic view towards solving Middleton's problems.

It could be tough sometimes, but Ken knew what he had been getting into when he chose to be a police officer. Things weren't always what he had imagined in the academy. His idealism had taken a bit of hit once he entered real world, working on the streets – but he had to take the bad with the good. And, ultimately, what mattered most was that he needed to provide for his wife and son.

The job put food on the table - even if he wasn't always there to eat it with his family.

XX

English was not one of Drew Lipsky's favorite classes. He didn't do that bad, but he hated writing papers, learning grammar, and reading books. All of it bored him.

At least with math, he could learn things that helped him build the toys and contraptions that he kept up in the attic. His science classes were interesting too, especially when he got to mix things together and see what happened. There was nothing more fun than when he got into the science teacher's supply closet and mixed things together that made the class really stinky, or made flames shoot out of the beaker. The teachers hated that. He even enjoyed art class, especially when he got to make things from clay or paper-mâché with his hands, although Drew's art teacher always hated the things he made. She said they were subversive, whatever that meant. But there was nothing hands-on about English, so he didn't enjoy it as much.

Drew sighed as he tried to plow his way through an essay about what he wanted to be when he grew up. It seemed pointless to him. He wasn't really sure what he wanted to be – maybe a scientist, or someone who made cool things, like buildings – but he knew that writing a paper about it wouldn't help him decide. He didn't like thinking about the future, anyway. Why did it matter what he did in the future? The whole point of school seemed to be for making kids unhappy in the present so they could prepare for the future – his dad told him that last part a lot, anyway. But Drew didn't see the point in doing things for the future if you were unhappy doing them. Something about it just made no sense to him. His dad never seemed very happy, after all, and he had done really well in school. So it didn't work for him.

"Oh Drewbie!"

Drew looked up from his paper. His mother stood in his bedroom doorway.

"Yes, mother?"

"Are you doing your homework?"

"Yes, I am. I think I'll be done in another hour!"

"When's that due, sweetie?"

"The day after tomorrow."

His mother looked back into the hallway for a moment and then leaned in through the door, as if she was about to tell him a secret. "You don't have to do that right now," she said. "I know you're a good boy, you'll finish it on time. You want to go play with your toys upstairs?"

"Definitely!"

Drew leaped up from his desk in excitement as his mother beckoned for him to follow her. The two of them went to the end of the hallway and up the stairway to the house's small attic. There wasn't a lot of room inside due to stacked boxes and a couple of tables covered in toys and cobbled-together contraptions, but it was Drew's favorite place in the house. He pulled his favorite doll out of a toy box, Mr. Cuddlesworth, and strapped it a chair. Then, he grabbed a few other dolls from the box, from which he would demand a ransom for Mr. Cuddlesworth, just like he had seen on television. He noticed his mother watching him while he played.

"Father won't be angry, will he?"

"We don't have to tell daddy, sweetie. It's no harm if you play with your toys for a little while."

"But aren't we breaking his rules?"

"Don't you worry, Drewbie! Daddy likes his rules, but sometimes it's fun to break the rules a little bit, isn't it?"

Drew's mother giggled, and he couldn't help but join in.

"I got you a book about science, by the way."

Drewbie's eyes lit up as he listened to his mother. "Really?"

"Yep! It's in your room, whenever you want to look at it. Now, I know how you like your privacy when you're playing your little games, but just make sure you don't break Mr. Cuddlesworth, okay Drewbie? I know how much you like him!"

"I'll be careful, mother."

Drew returned to his kidnapping game as his mother went back down the stairs. He was glad she didn't mind how much time he spent in the attic and in his room, even if sometimes he left burn marks on the walls or accidentally cut the power to the house. His games were a little different than the ones the other children played, as he had learned over time. His mother had always encouraged him, giving him all kinds of interesting books to read. She seemed like she was interested in the same kinds of things that Drew liked, and she always told him she was proud of how smart her little Drewbie was. Drew always enjoyed hearing that.

He was a smart boy, just like his mother always said, and he knew it. Even if his father and teachers and friends didn't always understand. Someday, he'd prove it to them.


	4. Purchase Problems

**Purchase Problems**

XX

An insistent ring broke through the dark clouds of Drakken's dreams, and he slapped the alarm clock on his end table as it dragged him the rest of the way into wakefulness. He poked his head out from the covers and looked around the room; the sun was shining brightly through his window, unblocked by drapes he had forgotten to draw together the night before. He squinted his bleary eyes as the light attacked them.

Last night hadn't given Drakken a lot of quality sleep time. Dementor's sudden arrival had sparked a few past memories that he didn't normally like to dredge up, and Dementor's presence alone was enough to keep anyone from getting a good night's rest. Even a little sleep was better than none, however, which was exactly how much he had gotten on Friday. It had been one of the longest weekends he could remember in a long time.

A pair of fuzzy slippers sat waiting beside the bed. Drakken got up, slipped his feet into them, and walked over to the closet to grab a robe. He stepped into the bathroom, brushing his teeth and inspecting his haggard features in the mirror. The best he could do was fluff up the black ponytail behind his head. What was it his cousin had called it? A mullet, that was it. It hung limply, much like his morning mood. He grumbled as he left the bathroom and his room on his way to the kitchen, where he would see what he could scrounge up for breakfast.

"Morning, Drewbie!"

Drakken gasped at the sight of his mother with Dementor in the kitchen. Although they had been in the cottage all day yesterday, he still found himself a little surprised when he walked in on them abruptly. Apparently his brief snatches of sleep over the night had been enough to make him temporarily forget they were here. But there they were. _Here_. Drakken longed for the days when he was still master of his domain.

"Come get some food, Doctor D. Dementor made ham and eggs!"

Drakken noticed Shego sitting at the kitchen table. "He probably burned them," he said in a snippy voice.

Shego shook her head as she poked her breakfast. "Nope. They're perfect."

"Please," said Dementor, "you are too kind, Shego. It vas my PLEASURE!"

Shego dropped her spoon at the unexpected rise in volume. Drakken shared her feelings; it was hard to get used to the way the man sometimes took such passion in completely random statements. Although the thought of eating Dementor's food was close to blasphemy, he had to admit he was hungry, and if Dementor himself was eating it – which he was – then it probably wasn't poisoned. Drakken slumped tiredly over to the kitchen counter and scooped some of the food from a pan, which was keeping it warm on the stove. He sat down at the kitchen table and ate it sullenly. Dementor smiled.

"Good, no?"

"Whatever," snapped Drakken.

"I do not think a robe is appropriate for de wearing at de kitchen table."

"My house!"

Dementor decided not to push the issue and continued eating his own food instead.

Although Drakken tried to focus on his breakfast– which he hated to admit was actually quite delicious – he couldn't resist making the occasional glance at his mother and his arch enemy. Arch enemy besides Kim Possible, anyway. He wondered which one counted as a bigger arch enemy. He was horrified to see Dementor and his mother exchanging loving glances once every few minutes. It had to be a show Dementor was putting on, just to enrage him. There had also been some ominous creaking coming from above the ceiling the night before, and Drakken knew the guest bedroom they had chosen to move into was right above his own room on the ground floor of the cottage. But there was no way that... he _had_ to be imagining...

"Are you choking, Doctor D?"

"What? No, I'm fine, Shego. But thank you for the consideration."

Even before Drakken had finished thanking her, he noticed Shego's attention return to Dementor and his mother. She seemed to be just as fascinated by their interaction, although he knew it was for very different reasons than his own fixation. She was getting a kick out of all of this, which made her concern seem less genuine. If she really cared about him choking, did she not notice him choking on the nightmare of a living situation that had been stuffed down his throat? Drakken would have preferred a piece of ham lodged in his windpipe instead of the horrifying scene in front of him.

Shego was enjoying herself so much that she had spent most of the weekend hanging out at his lair-cum-cottage despite the fact that he hadn't asked her to stay, and she normally would have been out doing whatever it was that Shego did for a weekend off. Even when Dementor and Claudia had gone out for a while yesterday to buy new decorations for the house, Shego had stuck around. She told Drakken it was because she didn't want to miss anything. She wasn't even hiding her schadenfreude anymore.

_ Not that she had ever been hiding it_, Drakken reminded himself. Just disgraceful.

"FINISHED!"

The table vibrated as Dementor slammed his fist down in emphasis. His plate was indeed empty.

"Put it in the dishwasher, dear."

"Yes Claudia!"

Dementor cleaned up his place at the table and slapped his hands together, looking down at his uniform and smoothing out a few creases. His reached for his helmet on the counter – only now did Drakken noticed that his helmet had not been on, and that Dementor had a horrible case of helmet hair. He was beginning to feel a little lazy for sitting at the table in a robe, even if it was a Sunday. Dementor looked like he was ready for some world-domination action already.

"Going somewhere?" he asked.

"Dat is correct. Today I shall retrieve de Pan-dimensional Vortex Inducer und begin phase one of Operation Moonshaker."

"How many phases are there?"

"Eight. Wait, of de moon, or of mine plan?"

"Your plan, dolt."

Dementor narrowed his eyes. "YOU are ze one not making with ze clarity, Drakken! My plan has several phases, if you must know. But all zat is important right now is retrieving ze Vortex Inducer!"

"Kim Possible's just going to spoil your plan as soon as the scientists you steal it from let her know it's missing," said Drakken with a snide sniff. "Where are you stealing it from, the UVI lab in Nevada?"

"UVI?"

"Unnecessary Vortex Induction Lab. It's where Shego and I stole ours last time."

"I am afraid not," said Dementor. "I haf learned from mine past mistakes, and zis time I chose to consult with an outside source to create one for me. No stealing necessary, und thus no tracking by those meddlesome teens!"

Drakken frowned as he took a sip of his orange juice. "An outside source, you say?"

"HenchCo, mine son."

"Stop calling me that."

"Vatever. Zey called me zis morning to inform me of my order being finished, und now, it is time for me to leave. Myron, Ted - accompany me to ze HenchCo headquarters, NOW!"

Two of Dementor's henchmen dashed into the kitchen out of nowhere and followed Dementor as he left the cottage. Drakken got up from his seat and left the kitchen after he heard the door shut, entering the living room and looking out through the window as they walked across the cottage's front lawn. Dementor's vehicles were gone - Drakken had told them about his loading dock over the weekend, which was a partially concealed garage-like area farther in the woods with a large service elevator that went down and connected to the rest of his subterranean lair under the cottage. It was a useful way to deal with vehicles and other heavy machinery instead of making a mess around the cottage itself. Dementor and his henchmen disappeared into the woods in the direction of the garage, to Drakken's satisfaction.

"Finally," he said as he turned back to the kitchen. "A little peace and quiet without that cursed man testing my patience!"

"Drew, that's not nice!" his mother complained.

"Mother, you realize he's just using you to get to my – to my radio business, right? He's just jealous of the success of my show."

"That's not true, sweetie! Hans didn't even know I had a son when he started dating me. It's pure coincidence that the two of you are both radio show hosts!"

"That may be what he claimed, mother, but 'Hans Demens', as you call him, will say anything to defeat me!"

"Oh, Drewbie, you're such a baby sometimes."

His mother's accusation was more of a good-natured ribbing than it was condescending, but Drakken still felt utterly emasculated. His situation went from bad to worse when she got up from the kitchen table and gave him a pinch on both cheeks, switching into her baby-cooing voice.

"Does Drewbie feel nervous around his new daddy? Do you need to spent some qwaality time with Hans?"

"I certainly do not!"

"I don't know why you can't give your father a chance when you have so much in common. You know, I should really listen to your radio shows and see why you two are so interested in that kinda thing. I feel bad I've never tuned into your show, Drew!"

"Um, it's only broadcast in the, uh – in the eastern lands."

Shego put down her cup of orange juice and arched an amused eyebrow.

"Eastern lands, Doctor D? Where are those, exactly?"

"To the east, of course."

"Riiight. The lands in the east."

"Zip it, Shego!"

"Don't be mean to your radio assistant, Drew! Especially when she's so pretty!"

Claudia wagged her finger at her son as Shego stared at the scene with unconcealed mirth, her legs propped casually up on the kitchen table. This weekend had turned out far better than she had ever imagined. "Hey Mrs. L," she asked, "do you have any baby pictures?"

"I sure do!"

Shego pumped her fist in triumph and got up from her seat, following Drakken's mother upstairs and ignoring the disapproving look her boss shot at her.

Drakken watched the two of them disappear, presumably on their way to fetch photo albums from the personal belongings his mother had brought upstairs into the bedroom she now shared with Dementor. He went into the living room and sat down on the couch with a sigh as he waited for them to come back. He had no doubt that Shego would tell his mother they needed to go back downstairs so he could join them in looking over the baby pictures. At least Dementor was gone, he thought. It could be worse.

"Drewbie!" cried his mother, running down the stairs again. "Guess what! I found the picture of when you were learning to swim, and that mean little girl you hated so much pulled down your swimming suit in the middle of the pool and everyone laughed at you!"

Drakken slapped a hand to his face. It was worse.

"Oooh, look at his little tushie there!" said Claudia.

Shego leaned in closer and gave Drakken an elbow to the arm, pointing at the picture. "Check it out," she said. "You had such a cute little butt!"

"Hans said the same thing!"

Drakken felt his humiliation shift into black horror. "Mother," he yelled, "you showed these to _Dementor_?"

"Of course I did, honey!"

"_Nnnngh!_"

Drakken tried his best to shut his mind down as his mother and sidekick perused various horrendously embarrassing baby pictures. Every once in a while he chanced a little peek at the pages as they flipped steadily onwards, catching a glimpse of a silly face here, a diaper accident there. As he grew older in the pictures, some of the scenes even brought back memories from his childhood. A litany of constant humiliation that went on well into his adult life. There was no end in sight.

"Is that, uh – is that Drakken's dad?" Shego pointed to several pictures in the album.

"That's right," said Claudia, nodding in confirmation before she continued flipping through the pages.

Drakken braced himself for Shego to follow up her question with more questions, but for some reason, she did not press the issue. Drakken was glad. He didn't really want to deal with that, on top of everything else.

"So how'd you say you met Dementor?" asked Shego.

"I don't know why you two keep calling him by his radio handle. He's family now – you can call him Hans!"

"Uh, I'll think about it."

"Anyway, to answer your question, I thought I'd try out that online dating that everybody's always going on about nowadays. You know what I'm talking about, right honey?"

Shego nodded encouragingly.

"Hans contacted me with one of those email messages and set up a date, and we just clicked! What can I say? He's a very charming young man. Being with him makes me feel so alive, and it's just wonderful that he and Drew have a career in common. I still think they should put their radio shows together. It'd be so cute, don't you think?"

"Oh yeah."

"I admit our relationship went a little fast, but it was such a whirlwind romance that we got married before we even knew what happened! It just felt right. We went off to Hawaii for our honeymoon – oh, those Hawaiians, they're so nice, and do you know what they do?"

Claudia leaned forward conspiratorially as Shego lent her an ear.

"When you get there, they give you this little flower necklace called a lei, and they say you got leid! Isn't that just naughty, dear? Don't tell Drewbie though, it's a little inappropriate."

Shego stifled a burst of laughter and nodded her head, agreeing that the information was too sensitive for her son's virgin ears. Drakken, unfortunately, heard every word they were saying.

"Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, so we discussed the future on our honeymoon and decided it would be a good idea to move into your little place here, Drewbie! It was high time for me to leave that little house behind, and I couldn't move in with Hans since his house had a big fire recently and he needed a new place to stay."

Drakken and Shego exchanged knowing looks. A fire, indeed.

"So here we are! And now you have a father figure, Drew. More than I can say for that cousin of yours."

"Yes, well, I don't need a father figure, mother. I'm an adult. Dementor isn't even as old as I am! It's cringe-inducing, I tell you!"

"It's something," agreed Shego.

Claudia clucked affectionately and pinched her son's cheek again. "Hans is an old soul, Drewbie. You could learn a lot from him!"

Drakken sank into the couch as they went back to perusing his childhood photo albums, wondering how his life could have gone so wrong in the space of a few days. Once he took over the world, he wouldn't have to deal with this kind of humiliation ever again. Drakken began to think about his internet hypnosis scheme again, having forgotten about it over the course of the hectic weekend. He would need to get moving on that soon. Just as soon as his mother and fa – Dementor – quit bothering him to distraction.

XX

The garage was filled with such a mess that Kim wondered if it could ever be sorted out. Her father seemed to think the job was doable, as he was hard at work organizing things into piles. Kim was taking a breather; not really because she was exhausted so much as because the sight of all that random junk was enough to make her head hurt. Fortunately the tweebs were busy in their room, so her head didn't _actually_ hurt yet. It also helped that the garage door was open and warm spring weather had arrived just in time to give them a nice breeze while they organized things.

"Thanks for helping me out, Kimmie-cub," said her father. "You know how your mom gets when she comes in here and sees what a mess everything is."

"It _is_ a mess, dad. Do you really need all this stuff?"

"Of course I do! Okay, some of it's a little old, but it has nostalgic value. Look, here's an old batch of rocket fuel I made in college!" said James as he sniffed the air. "Hmm, it must have a leak. Smell that ammonium perchlorate!"

"Dad, that's a old can of baked beans – see, the label's mostly rotted off."

James grimaced as he checked the barely-visible expiration date and carefully put the can aside.

"So it is, Kim. So it is."

Kim sighed as she returned to her sorting. She didn't mind helping her father, but she wasn't sure how much help she could be as she didn't know what half this stuff was. She also had the feeling that a lot of it didn't even belong to her father; some of the doodads and contraptions had the unmistakable stamp of tweeb on them. Still, it was high time for the garage to get cleaned out. Just as long as she didn't find any garden gnomes like the one that plagued Ron. She was about to ask her father whether the object she was holding was some kind of garden fertilizer or another long-dead food product when her Kimmunicator rang.

"Sorry dad, I gotta get this," said Kim as she left through the open garage door.

"Not a problem."

"Hey Wade," said Kim as the boy's image flashed onto the screen. "What's the sitch?"

"Somebody stole some technology from the Unnecessary Vortex Induction lab in Nevada. You've been there before – I'm thinking you can guess what was stolen."

"Pan-dimensional Vortex Inducer?"

"Bingo."

"Dementor or Drakken?"

"Weirdly enough, I don't think either. Their security system showed what looked like some henchmen, but they didn't look like they belonged to Drakken or Dementor. They got into a private jet after they broke in and got the Vortex Inducer out – I lost track of it not long after it lifted off, but I traced its flight path and found out it was heading in the direction of HenchCo."

"HenchCo? That's interesting."

"Maybe you should pay them a visit."

"Gotcha. I'll call Ron."

Wade disappeared from the screen as Kim walked around in her front yard. It was a beautiful day outside. While it would have been nice to take the Sloth and spent a little time cruising with the windows down and enjoying the warm weather, duty called. She looked over at Ron's house as she called her boyfriend up. The Kimmunicator rang for what felt like ages before he finally picked up.

"Urgh," he grumbled. "What's up, KP."

"Ron – did you just wake up?"

"Yeah, so?"

"It's past noon."

"Don't judge me!"

"Whatever. Either way, you gotta get dressed. We have a mission. Meet me in front of my house in five minutes."

"Five minutes? That's crazy talk. I need thirty at least."

Kim grumbled and shut off the Kimmunicator. She knew she had been a little optimistic when she threw out the five minute suggestion; Ron, as usual, would meet her when he met her. At least they didn't seem to be in a particular hurry on this one.

"Hey dad," she said as she poked her head back into the garage, "I'm gonna have to take off. Sorry!"

"Don't worry about it, Kimmie-cub. I think I've got this under control!"

Kim cast a glance over the mess surrounding her father. If her imagination wasn't deceiving her, it was even larger than it had been when they started. There were definitely a couple of clunky metallic objects she didn't remember seeing when they first took everything off the shelves and out of the storage units for reorganizing. Maybe the mess had gained the ability to spontaneously reproduce in her absence. With the Possible family, you never knew.

"Kick some evil butt for me, okay Kim?"

"I'll try, dad."

Kim went back into into the front yard to wait for Ron to pop out of his house. The Pan-dimensional Vortex Inducer again, she mused. She had no idea why so many villains had an interest in that stupid thing; as far as she was concerned, it wasn't a particularly interesting doomsday device. Kim liked to think she could come up with a better one in about five minutes, although she reminded herself that sometimes her ego could get the better of her.

Doomsday weapons weren't her thing anyway, assuming the Vortex Inducer even counted as one, seeing as it wasn't really created by bad guys. But either way, she was the hero. The bad guys were the ones who used the dangerous toys - she just took them out!

XX

"Hey boss, read this one."

Dementor tried to ignore Myron as he sat in the plush couch in the lobby of HenchCo headquarters. He kept his eye glued to a clock on the wall, which inexorably pushed its little black hands forward. The hour hand had already made a couple of revolutions; Dementor had lost count of how many, partly out of boredom and partly because of his henchmens' constant interruptions. A magazine page suddenly blocked his vision as Myron thrust it into his face.

"This article right here, brother-in-law!"

"Myron, you are an employee – mine name to you is DEMENTOR!"

"Yeah, but look at this study they did on lemurs. Did you know that in contrast to most other mammals and primates, most lemur groups exhibit female social dominance?"

"No, I did not know zat, Myron. Thank you for de vonderful information."

Dementor breathed a sigh of relief as Myron finally returned to reading the article with his fellow henchman. The two of them giggled at a picture of a serious-looking lemur in a business suit. Dementor wondered what kind of magazine they were reading, but decided he didn't care.

Myron's mention of female social dominance had brought his sister to mind, anyway. He had only hired Myron after his henchman shortage resulting from the last time Kim Possible destroyed his lair, and his sister insisted he give her new husband a job. After finding out he worked at the Strudel-works she owned, Dementor was fairly certain she had just outwitted him by pawning her husband off after realizing that being around him all day and all night was the last thing she wanted. His sister could be clever, all right. Always getting the upper hand. She would be a formidable supervillain if she just cast aside a few of those silly little hangups about stealing and mass destruction.

"I'm really glad you gave me the opportunity to come along with you, boss," said Myron.

"Only because you bothered me this ENTIRE weekend about taking more of a part in my next plan."

"I'm glad too," said the other henchman. "This is fun!"

"Vaiting in a lobby for two hours is fun to you? VAT are you TALKING about? And who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Ted!"

"He's Ted," echoed Myron.

"Why did I hire you again?"

"Me and Myron are brothers. Like actual brothers!"

"Isn't that cool?"

Dementor tried to massage his forehead, but his helmet was in the way. Sometimes there were drawbacks to having the unmatched fashion sense that he did. As a way to escape from the constant irritation of his two subordinates, Dementor got up from the couch yet again and strode over to the receptionist's desk, where a young lady was typing away at the computer. "Excuse me," he said, trying to retain some vestiges of the polite tone he was using when he first got to HenchCo, "do you know vether or not Jack Hench is ready to see me and mine associates?"

"I'll check," said the girl, getting up from the desk.

Dementor was pleased; maybe he had worn her down enough that she was willing to actually walk back to Jack Hench's office instead of just calling him from her desk. This was progress. He reluctantly sat back down on the lobby's couch, and sure enough, the girl reappeared a moment later with Jack Hench in tow.

"Dementor! My favorite customer!"

"Danke, Mister Hench. Do you haf my Pan-dimensional Vortex Inducer ready?"

"Sure do! Follow me back to my office, please."

Dementor motioned for Myron and Ted to follow him as they passed through a long hallway and reached Jack Hench's office. There were some glass windows lining one wall, and Dementor enjoyed the view for a moment. The office was on an upper floor of the Corporation, and he could see the expansive parking lot out front. His helicopter was parked on a small helipad near the corner of the lot. The view was nice, but Jack Hench soon grabbed his attention by walking over to his desk and theatrically whipping a red sheet away from something sitting there. Dementor grinned widely. He hadn't seen it in a long time, but it felt like reuniting with an old friend.

"Ah, de vortexes I could make with zat little puppy..."

"Absolutely," laughed Jack Hench. "Do you have the payment?"

"Indeed I do. I must say, I vas surprised by the reasonableness of your terms."

"What can I say? We managed to keep production costs way down."

Dementor nodded and pulled an envelope from his red uniform. In a situation like this, he would have been tempted to just steal the Vortex Inducer after bringing more henchmen with him, or perhaps break in after hours, but doing that too many times to Jack Hench tended to hurt an evil business relationship. He could get away with a few, but there were limits to a person's patience. Today, he didn't want Jack Hench complaining to any teen foes about stolen property, so he thought he would keep them off his tail by doing things the proper – and admittedly lame – way. But as he was about to hand the money to Jack Hench, he noticed something in the corner of his eye outside the broad glass windows of the office.

Two things, in fact.

"Aaagh!"

Dementor shielded himself as the two shapes smashed through the glass, sending a shower of shards flying into the office. Kim Possible and her sidekick sailed through and landed in the middle of the floor as Kim reeled in her grappling gun, apparently having swung them in from somewhere above and outside the window.

"Hand over the Pan-dimensional Vortex Inducer, Hench!"

Dementor stared at the two teens incredulously, wondering how they could have gotten there so quickly, when a light bulb went off in his head. He turned to Jack Hench and jerked the envelope of cash back just before the man could grab it for himself.

"Kept production costs vay down? Does zat mean STEALING, Hench?"

Hench laughed nervously and rubbed his neck. "Well look, we're a corporation! We have a bottom line to meet. We can't personally make every single product our customers ask for, can we? Sometimes we do a little outsourcing."

"A little outsourcing from Unnecessary Vortex Induction labs," said Kim.

"Maybe, maybe not. But also India sometimes."

Dementor had returned the envelope of money to his uniform, but he couldn't help but stare at the Pan-dimensional Vortex Inducer, which was still sitting on Jack Hench's desk. Hench himself noticed the look and backed slowly towards the Vortex Inducer, while Kim and Ron also began to edge towards it. Dementor glanced back at his henchmen to make sure they were backing him up, but Myron and Ted appeared to be fascinated by a potted plant near the door of the office.

_ Useless_, thought Dementor. _What do I pay zese people for?_

Before anyone could make a first move, the office door opened and a horde of henchmen poured through, filling the room to what must have been its occupancy limit. Dementor groaned; this was definitely not the low-key transaction he had been hoping for. Especially if he wanted to get to phase two of his plan without his teen foes spoiling things.

"Say hi to my associates," laughed Jack Hench as Kim and Ron turned to face the new arrivals. "I think you've met before. You could just leave and save yourselves the trouble, but I'm guessing it won't be that easy."

"That's right, Hench. You stole something that doesn't belong to you!"

"I'm sure my team of lawyers would not be convinced by whatever evidence you have. And right now you're trespassing on HenchCo property. And you broke my window! It's not like it's summer yet – it could be really cold later!"

Weather concerns seemed to be enough to goad Hench into action, as he snapped his finger at his henchmen and tilted his head in the direction of his two teen intruders. Kim met the first of them with a spinning kick, but there were so many that she and Ron were quickly forced back farther into the office. Not that there was much space to be forced back into. Several more henchmen reeled from her blows, and Ron began to weave in between them until he reached Jack Hench's desk and grabbed the Vortex Inducer.

"I'll take that!"

"Hey!"

By this time Myron and Ted had noticed the mess. Dementor motioned towards Kim's sidekick.

"De boy! Take it from de boy!"

"Gotcha, boss!"

Dementor was about to leap towards the sidekick himself when one of Hench's henchmen came out of nowhere and clocked him against his helmet. Dementor used his size to his advantage and sent the henchmen toppling to the ground with a sweeping kick. Of all the nerve! Sometimes he wondered if Jack Hench was worth doing business with, although he knew that he'd be back in the man's office within a few weeks, once his annoyance wore down. Another henchman attacked, but this time Dementor simply ducked down and let the man sail over his head from his own momentum. A sickening thud came from behind him as the man dealt a punishing blow to the wall with his body.

"He's a slippery one!" shouted Myron as Ron escaped from his weak grasp.

"KP, take it!"

Ron threw the Vortex Inducer through the air after seeing a group of Hench's henchmen barreling towards him. Kim was about to reach out and grab it when Jack Hench intercepted it and made a dash for the door. Kim growled and dodged several enemies in pursuit. Just as Hench was about to reach his office door, it opened, and out popped the lobby receptionist.

"Mister Hench, I heard some commotion in here and I was-"

Unable to slow down, Jack Hench slammed into the girl and tumbled out into the hallway, losing his grip on the Vortex Inducer as it rolled back into the office. The two of them got back up and dusted themselves off as Hench helped the girl to her feet.

"I'm so sorry, Mary - are you alright?"

The receptionist gave a little giggle. "Of course, Mister Hench."

The battle in the office raged on, and Dementor managed to extricate himself from the mass of punching and kicking bodies long enough to sidle up to his henchmen, who were quite obviously trying to keep out of the fight. Dementor was annoyed at their laziness, but at least it was easier to talk to them now. "Ted," he whispered, "come with me outside to ze helicopter. Myron vill stay here und keep an eye on Kim Possible."

"Yes boss!"

"Myron, radio me ven Kim Possible und her silly sidekick leave the building with ze Vortex Inducer."

"Um, okay."

Dementor and his subordinate sneaked out into the hallway as the fight raged on. Jack Hench noticed them in the process of leaving and looked like he was about to demand his payment before one of his own henchmen accidentally slammed into him, sending him toppling into the potted plant that had been so fascinating to Myron and Ted.

Hopefully his strategy would work, but Dementor knew he was taking a bit of a gamble. And considering there was no guarantee he would even get the Vortex Inducer now – not to mention his cover was blown – he decided giving Hench his payment and doing things the lame way wasn't so important after all.


	5. Strike Out

_**Notes -** Hey guys! I sort of lost the motivation to do this story for a while for some reason, but I've been getting back into it, it's pretty much finished other than editing / tweaking that I always do on each chapter. Which means I have begun posting it again. So here's the next chapter! _

* * *

**Strike Out**

XX

The once-beautiful office began to look a little worse for wear as flying henchmen gradually smashed anything that wasn't nailed to the walls, as well as several things that _were_ nailed to the walls. Kim Possible ducked and grabbed another henchmen by the limbs as he tried to punch her, swinging him off balance and sending him crashing into Jack Hench's desk, which had already been on the verge of toppling. This time it stood no chance. It crumbled to the ground under the weight of the pudgy henchman.

"Ron, where's the Vortex Inducer?"

"Got it, KP!"

Kim made sure her boyfriend had the device in his hands as she continued fighting. She had seen Dementor and his two henchmen make a break for it a few moments ago and assumed they were just trying to escape without being caught, but she wanted to make sure they hadn't actually taken the Pan-dimensional Vortex Inducer with them. But they hadn't. Apparently, Dementor knew when to give up and bow out.

"Watch out, Ron!"

Ron narrowly avoided getting clobbered by two henchmen who were coordinating their efforts to stop him. Kim began to feel a little exasperated. It was hard to fight in the close quarters of Jack Hench's office, and Hench himself had also disappeared a moment ago, probably wondering where Dementor went with his money. Kim had to hold herself back as she fought; there was a gaping hole through the office window, and as much as Hench's goons were getting on her nerves, she didn't really want to throw one the wrong way and accidentally send him flying several stories down until he hit the pavement outside. It was tough being a hero sometimes. But maybe if they irritated her just a _little_ more...

"Kim, over here! Clear path to the door!"

Kim had been lost in pummeling an unfortunate henchman against the wall. She looked back at the sound of Ron's voice and saw what he was talking about; the office door was open and clear. Ron was standing there, the Vortex Inducer clutched in his grasp as he got ready to run. For once, Hench's thugs seemed too exhausted to try to prevent the two of them from leaving with the Vortex Inducer. Now was her chance.

She made a dash through the crowded office and followed her boyfriend out the door and through the hallway. A few henchmen straggled outside, but she knocked them aside or cartwheeled over them easily. They reached the lobby in seconds, where Kim remembered waiting to see Jack Hench in the past – back when they had more normal visits to Hench Co, and entered the building through the non-window-breaking route. The girl at the receptionist's counter gave them a nod as they raced past.

"Thanks for visiting Hench Co! I hope we were able to serve all your villain needs!"

"Sort of!" yelled Kim.

Just before she and Ron reached the lobby's exit, Jack Hench appeared around the corner with another group of his goons, blocking their path. Kim skidded to a halt. She had outrun Ron during their escape from the office – he couldn't skid to a halt in time, and she felt him smack into her from behind. The Vortex Inducer flew from his hand, right over her head, and hit the floor. It came rolling to a halt at Jack Hench's feet. He stooped and picked it up, flashing them a winning smile.

"I believe this is mine. Even if my customer just canceled the deal by running out."

Kim looked behind her as the lobby begin to fill up with the winded henchmen, who they had left behind in the office earlier. All in all, this was taking way too long, and she was getting tired of playing catch with something that could potentially make a black hole the size of – well, some state. She couldn't remember which one. Hopefully the size of Rhode Island, and not California or Texas. "Give us the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer, Hench!" she said. "I really don't want to be here on a Sunday, and you're starting to get on my nerves."

Hench gulped nervously at Kim's expression. "Now, look," he said as he took a few steps back, "if you want to purchase this little doohickey, I'm sure we can come to a reasonable-"

A beeping sound cut through his attempt at negotiation. He glanced around for a moment, confused, until he looked down at his hand and noticed the double stripes along the Vortex Inducer's cylindrical body had just briefly flashed red. He shook the device and stared at it with a frown. "Is that bad?"

"Yeah," said Kim.

"Majorly bad," added Ron.

Everyone in the room took a few noticeable steps back from Hench as he held the device gingerly away from himself, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. The beeping continued, and he began to look more alarmed than confused. "How do I turn the thing off?"

"Give it to me!" said Ron. "I can disarm it!"

Hench threw the Vortex Inducer at Ron, who caught it and stuck his tongue out impudently.

"Suckerrr!"

Kim gave Ron a surprised smile; sometimes her boyfriend was more clever than she expected. It didn't look like Ron had actually thought about what to do once he had the device, however, as the door out of the lobby was still blocked by a large knot of Hench's goons. Kim made a split decision and grabbed her boyfriend by the arm as she dashed back towards the hallway that led to Hench's office. Most of the henchmen were now in the lobby, so hopefully they had a clear path.

Sure enough, they got back to the office and found it empty. The echo of hurried footsteps stamping through the hallway behind them grew louder. There wasn't much time. Kim looked at the shattered remnants of the window they had used to break into Hench's office. The parking lot in front of the building stretched out beyond and below their vantage point.

"Hold onto me," she said as she pulled Ron closer. She stepped forward and took out her grappling gun.

Just as the first henchmen returned to the office – by this time gasping for breath – Kim leaped out the window. Ron held tightly to her stomach, the cold metal of the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer clutched in one of his hands as it pressed against her skin. They sailed into the open air. Kim managed to twist a little bit in the course of her jump and shot the grappling hook back up at the window as they fell. She felt the hook catch on the window's ledge and increased the tension on the cable. With the help of the grappling gun's line, they slowed down and sailed back towards the building's side as it pulled them in. Kim braced for impact. They smacked hard against the concrete.

"Oof!" cried Ron. Unfortunately, he had been stuck between Kim and the wall, taking the brunt of the blow.

"Sorry Ron. Had to do it!"

They were near the bottom floor, and Kim looked up to see a couple of henchmen's heads poking out from the open window. One of them looked like he was about to try to pull up the grappling gun's cable, but she released it with another button, sending the two of them falling the rest of the way to the ground. They hit a patch of grass between the building and the parking lot. It was painful, but close enough that they weren't injured. Ron got up, gingerly picking the Vortex Inducer up from where it had fallen on the ground.

"Ron, that thing is still armed."

"Oh, right," laughed Ron. He smacked it against the wall. The beeping abruptly stopped.

"I don't know how you do that," said Kim.

"Skills, KP. It's my mad skills!"

"Yeeah. Okay, let's make a break for the car before they get down here."

The two of them made a dash for Kim's Sloth, which was not actually parked in the lot itself but concealed in some bushes past the lot's far end, as they didn't want to attract attention to themselves. As Kim ran, something seemed off about her surroundings. It only took her a moment to realize what it was: the helicopter she had seen upon their arrival was missing. It wasn't everyday that she saw helicopters on parking lot helipads, and its absence was noticeable. She had assumed it belonged to one of Hench's richer clients. But now that she thought about it, she had a bad feeling. Just before they reached the far end of the lot, Kim heard the sound of rotors thudding through the air, increasingly loud.

Loud, and coming from right behind her.

"I vill take dat!" shouted a familiar voice.

Kim whirled around in time to see Dementor hanging off the end of a rope ladder, which in turn was hanging from the side of his passing helicopter. Her foe swooped over them and grabbed the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer from Ron's hand before he even knew what had happened. Kim gritted her teeth. He was already too high to reach, unless she shot her grappling gun, but she didn't want to hit him. In their hurry to escape, they had not been paying enough attention.

Dementor cackled as the helicopter flew past them and rose rapidly into the air. Ron shielded his eyes against the sun as he watched the helicopter rise and retreat into the distance. "Well, that tanks."

Kim nodded in agreement.

_ A whole bunch of effort for nothing_, she thought.

"Did I see a wedding ring on his hand?" asked Ron.

Kim shrugged. "I dunno, he went by pretty fast. Dementor's not married, is he?"

"I don't know how a dude like that has time for romance."

"Or who would _want_ his romance."

"TMI, Kim. TMI."

Kim gave her boyfriend a grimace as the two of them trudged the rest of the way towards the Sloth. Dementor's personal life was too wrongsick for her to even think about. And more important than that, thought Kim, was that someone _really_ needed to give those people over at Unnecessary Vortex Inducer labs a few pointers on how to guard their stupid inventions.

XX

Shego loved the color green. Which was the main reason why she was enjoying her hike in the forest with Drakken, despite his constant whining about his new family situation. Actually, she had been enjoying his whining when Claudia and Dementor first arrived at their place – more than she ever imagined she would enjoy Drakken's whining – but it was starting to get old.

She looked up at the sun-dappled leaves, which blanketed them in shade and softened the harsh light of the sun. A small stream passed to their right, and Drakken's conversation was mingled with its gurgling whispers. Her boss led the way as the two of them trekked over rock and underbrush on their afternoon hike. Occasionally, he got a little too absorbed in his endless moaning, and Shego had to pull him back from falling right into the stream, or stop and hack underbrush aside, claws alight with green flame as she brought up a cloud of broken leaves and twigs after her boss inadvertently got himself tangled up in his obliviousness.

"And then I found out he taped over everything I had lined up on Saturday!" said Drakken, throwing his hands up into the air in an expression of hopeless persecution. "A new episode of _Evil Eye for the Bad Guy_, lost forever!"

"They have repeats, Doctor D."

"It's the principle of the thing! It's like stealing a man's toothpaste because you didn't bring your own. Which is exactly what he did on Saturday, Shego. I'm just lucky I had a spare tube – otherwise, I shudder to think of what my dental hygiene might have become!"

"You're exaggerating. I mean, come on, aren't you more annoyed by the fact that your mom is here to emasculate you endlessly and your worst enemy is up there in the guest bedroom with her at night, doing-"

"_Shego!_ Not another word!"

Shego did him a favor and left the sentence unfinished. Maybe there _was_ such a thing as crossing the line.

She fell silent as they continued through the woods, letting Drakken grouse to his heart's content. They had already been hiking for quite a while, and they were on their way back to the cottage. Dementor had left to steal the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer that morning, and Drakken's mother, more recently, had gone out for some more shopping. Apparently her little Drewbie had no vitamins anywhere in the house. And he had completely neglected to install a fire alarm system, too. Shego had to admit that Claudia might have a point on that last one, considering the cottage was built on top of what amounted to an underground factory for bizarre and often explosive devices.

"What do you think, Shego?"

Drakken looked back at her, pausing in their trek, and Shego realized she had been completely tuning him out.

"About how to deal with this Dementor situation," he said after seeing her confusion. "Even if I bring in my henchmen tomorrow once their work week starts again, he has the upper hand. And I'd hate to annoy my mother – you know how she is. If only she understood his true nature!"

"She doesn't understand _your_ true nature, Doctor D."

"Hmm. Alright, I'll give you that one. But I'm not the one invading _Dementor's_ family and stealing his precious lair and resources for my own decidedly inferior schemes."

"Hold on a sec – did you just admit your schemes are worse than Dementor's?"

"W-what?" sputtered Drakken. "No! No, it - it was part of the point I was making, as if I was in Dementor's place, you're supposed to reverse – look, no, my schemes are much better than his, Shego. Stealing the Vortex Inducer again? I mean, can you say 'lack of imagination'?"

"All I know is you just said your schemes are worse!"

Shego cackled at her boss's dumbfounded expression. Drakken struggled to maintain his composure, but finally sighed in defeat as the two of them kept walking along the rocky stream bank. She felt a twinge of guilt – just a twinge – for giving him such a hard time. His situation was definitely pretty heinous. Totally not a situation she would ever tolerate. But she couldn't help it. Seeing the man seethe with impotent, childish rage when things didn't go his way happened to be one of the greatest perks that came with her job as his hired muscle. And that was saying a lot; her contract gave her some pretty amazing benefits.

"Look," she said, trying to throw her boss a bone, "like I said before, the best thing to do might be to wait it out. Dementor's overconfident – so are you, for that matter, but you have something he doesn't."

"What's that?"

"Me. And besides, it sounds like you don't really know much about his plan in the first place."

"I know enough to know mine's better!"

"Whatever. You know, you could always just let him do his silly plan and help him out while he does all the hard work, and just overthrow him once he takes over the world Lull him into a false sense of security."

Drakken raised a hand up to stroke his chin, deep in thought. He almost tripped over a tree root, but regained his balance at the last moment. "That _is_ an idea," he said. "But I don't know, it rubs me the wrong way, Shego. There's a lack of professional pride in it. Supervillainy has its codes, you know."

"You steal stuff from other people all the time. Why not steal Dementor's hard work if it actually succeeds?"

"Maybe... nnngh, no. I have a plan, Shego. I want to carry it out."

"How much work have you actually _done_ on your plan? The internet hypnosis thing, right? Have you actually tried to create that silly program you keep talking about?"

"Yes, I have, for your information."

"You tried, or you _actually_ created it?"

Drakken's silence spoke louder than words.

The gurgling stream wove its way to the right as they made their way left, cutting through the trees as the cottage drew nearer. Shego could just barely see the top of its shingled roof coming into sight, partly obscured beyond a criss-crossed collection of trunks, branches, and leaves.

"Maybe I haven't created it _yet_," said Drakken. "It's been a bit more difficult than I expected. I might visit Frugal Lucre in the next few days and see if he has any opinions on the matter. Maybe get him to code a few lines."

"Outsourcing, right?"

"Yes, but don't say it like that."

"I didn't say it like anything, I just said 'outsourcing'."

Drakken grunted in irritation as they kept walking.

It was another few moments before the trees cut off abruptly, opening up into a small lawn surrounding the cottage. The faux-storage shed where they hid the hovercraft was a few dozen yards away, along the edge of the forest, and a gravel driveway snaked out from a break in the trees to their left, ending in a small circle in front of the cottage. A few flowering bushes surrounded the cottage, grouped in front of the windows and planted in mulch ringed by polished stones. There was also a little garden in back, where the henchmen seemed to have begun planting some flowers and spending time doing a little landscaping when Drakken wasn't ordering them around.

Shego didn't know why they even bothered; Drakken's lairs rarely lasted for more than a few weeks. Although choosing a hidden, underground lair topped by a actual cottage was a sneaky choice; Shego had to give her boss props for that. And it was a beautiful location. She could understand why his mother was so excited about moving in. Almost as if on cue, a familiar beige four-door station wagon appeared from the forest, driving up the small gravel driveway and pulling to a halt in front of the cottage as Drakken looked on with a grimace.

"Mommy's home," she whispered.

Drakken shot her an angry look before plastering a smile on his face as Claudia Lipsky stepped out of the vehicle and popped open the trunk. "Can you help with the groceries, dear?"

"Yes, mother."

Drakken was about to walk towards the car when he ground to a halt, watching as someone he had failed to notice got out of the car's passenger seat and joined his mother at the trunk. His mother had not been asking _him_ for help with the groceries after all. She had been asking his cousin.

"_Eddie?_"

"Hey, cuz, what's up?"

"What are you doing with mother? I thought you were in prison!"

"I was, but Aunt C came by and got me out on bail! She rocks - seriously!"

Claudia Lipsky nodded as she passed a few grocery bags off to Drakken's cousin. "Technically, he wasn't supposed to go free yet," she said, "but I had a little sit-down with the warden and they decided to give him an early release for good behavior. I can be very persuasive, you know!"

Drakken's shoulders slumped as he helped his mother with the groceries. Shego raised her eyebrow as she watched the Lipsky family make their way into the house with the first of the bags. Drakken and Eddie came out again to retrieve some more from the trunk. Drakken looked decidedly unhappy with the new arrival; Shego had to admit she wasn't too happy either. If Motor Ed was going to be up to his usual obnoxious flirtations, things could get ugly, fast. For him, anyway. She was about to retreat into the house and leave Drakken alone to deal with the groceries and his increasingly awkward family situation when a loud voice traveled across the lawn.

"I am BACK! Und I haf taken the Pan-Dimensional VORTEX INDUCER!"

Dementor appeared from the forest and walked over to the cottage with the two henchmen he had taken along with him that morning. Myron and Ted, if Shego was remembering correctly. Although Shego hadn't heard it going by overhead, they must have landed the helicopter farther in the forest, probably at Drakken's secluded alternative entrance for vehicles and heavy machinery. She noticed Dementor was not holding anything in his hand, though.

"So where is it?" she asked.

"It is in a safe place. Now dat I have it, I can take some time to – who is dat?"

Motor Ed walked over to Dementor and grabbed one of the small man's hands, almost crushing it in an enthusiastic handshake as he reached around with the other arm and slapped him on the back. Dementor stepped back as soon as his hand was released, massaging it with a grimace of pain.

"Eddie Lipsky, dude. But you can call me Motor Ed!"

"Ah, very well. Vat are you all doing out here in the yard?"

"Groceries, dude. Drew's been slacking on the grub – seriously! You wanna grab a couple bags or what?"

"I vould prefer to NOT be grabbing ze bags, thank you."

Dementor looked over the scene, looking a little on edge after meeting the new Lipsky family arrival. Shego wondered if Claudia had forgotten to tell him about Eddie; she _did_ remember the last time Claudia had dragged the mullet-sporting man into Drakken's lair, trying to get her son to help reform his cousin. Shego thought there was something mind-boggling about the fact that the Lipsky family could have a black sheep who _wasn't_ Doctor D.

"You know vat," said Dementor, "Dis means dat de entire Lipsky family is here together, no?"

Drakken looked warily at his stepfather. Shego wondered if the look was because he was wondering what Dementor was getting at, or because his _actual_ father was not there, thus meaning that the entire Lipsky was not, in fact, together. Or maybe it was just because Dementor was insinuating that he _was_ a part of the Lipsky family. Now that Shego thought about it, she began to wonder just who had taken whose last name in Claudia and Dementor's marriage.

"I suppose the family is together, yes," said Drakken haltingly. "What are you getting at?"

"Dis is good, dis is good! I vas hoping ve could try something, and I suppose dis Motor Ed cousin of yours can join in!"

Dementor ran into the house for a moment as Drakken stood nervously by the car's trunk with his mother and cousin. Shego wrung her hands together excitedly, anticipating something embarrassing was about to happen to her boss, and sure enough, Dementor returned after a moment with a baseball and several catcher's mitts gathered in his arms.

"Claudia and I purchased dese ze other day!" he exclaimed. "Let us play TOGETHER!"

Drakken gawked at the sports equipment.

"Are you serious?"

Motor Ed shrugged and grabbed a mitt from Dementor's armload, putting it on his hand. "Hey, cuz, it could be fun," he said. "Just chill out and play some catch with us, seriously!"

"It iz a father and son outing, no? All American and dat kind of thing. Perhaps it can strengthen the bonds of our relationship, Drakken!"

"He's your son now, Hans. Call him Drew!"

"Yes, Claudia. Now let us play with de ball and throw it between us like in de movies!"

Drakken gave Shego a beseeching look, perhaps hoping she knew of save him from humiliation, but Shego had no intention of interrupting the beauty that was about to happen.

"I refuse!" he shouted. "This is beneath me!"

"Play the game, honey," said Claudia.

"Mother, I don't have time for these silly shenanigans! The last thing I want-"

"_Play the game!_"

Shego was a little startled at Claudia's outburst. It was the closest thing to anger she had ever heard from Drakken's mother, although Claudia immediately went back to her harmless and friendly composure. Drakken grumbled for a moment until he grabbed one of Dementor's catcher's mitts and took a position on the lawn, forming a triangle between his stepfather and his cousin. Dementor smiled and began pitching between them.

"See?" he said. "It is de bonding!"

"My life is a nightmare!" moaned Drakken.

Shego knew it was mean, but the scene was too good to ignore; she pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and took a few pictures of Drakken's family bonding moment as he sullenly attempted to catch the ball, failing miserably at most of his tries. Clearly, her boss hadn't been a star gym student back in school. Motor Ed began to give him tips as his shoulders slumped hopelessly. Shego decided she had enough pictures, at least for now. She slipped into the cottage behind Drakken's mother, who was bringing in the last of the groceries, trying to be quiet so Drakken's mother didn't turn around and notice her coming in.

There was no way anyone would catch _her_ playing a game of catch.

XX

"Get in here, Monique! My belly is waiting!"

Kim gave her boyfriend a confused glance as Monique got into the back seat of the Sloth. Rufus was perched on his shoulder, rubbing his belly.

"No, no," said Ron, "I didn't mean like I was gonna eat her, I meant, like, the Nacos-"

"We got it," said Monique. "Hey, Felix."

Felix, sitting in the other side of the Sloth's back seat – his wheelchair in the trunk – nodded in greeting. "What's up, Monique?"

"Just wondering how come we're sittin' in the back while Ron gets the front seat."

"Boyfriend privileges," said Ron.

Kim shook her head. "Um, he just totally made that up."

"Okay, okay. I called shotgun."

Monique poked Ron through the back of his seat. "How exactly do you call shotgun when I ain't there at all?"

"Neither was I," added Felix.

"I just yell it out! That's how."

Kim rolled her eyes as she pulled out of Monique's driveway. They were on their way to Bueno Nacho for dinner after a long day of fighting Dementor and then arriving to school late, although by this time, Mr. Barkin barely blinked an eye when they came in halfway through a class, bruised and battered. It was possible her dad would bring back pizza when he finished work, but he had been busy on a new project at the Space Center lately, so that wouldn't happen before 9 at the earliest. And after her failure to prevent Dementor from taking the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer, she wanted to hang out with her friends a little.

"So how'd that mission with Dementor go?" asked Felix. "I didn't get to talk to you guys much in school."

"Not so good," said Kim.

"That's too bad."

Kim looked in the rear-view mirror at her friend. "By the way, Monique? Me and Ron had this bet going on that if the next supervillain we fought was Drakken, I have to take Ron to JP Bearymore's, but if the next one was Dementor, Ron has to go to the mall and buy us clothes and wear an outfit we picked for him."

Monique's eyes bugged out at the news.

"Oh my God, girl, how did you get him to agree to that?"

"I have no idea," laughed Kim, "but get ready for a shopping spree!"

"Excuse me!"

The two of them glanced at Ron in the passenger seat.

"Yes, Ron?"

"I seem to remember the bet depended on whichever supervillain we _take down_ first. Not just fight, but _defeat_."

Kim groaned. "Come on, you _know_ we're gonna defeat Dementor in, like, a day or two. How is it that you can't remember a single thing whenever we do homework, but when it comes to winning some bet, you remember exactly how we phrased it?"

"Easy, KP: I remember stuff when it's important."

"He's got a point," said Felix. "You guys didn't actually defeat Dementor yet, so the bet's still on."

"You're just defending him 'cause he's your buddy," said Monique.

"Well, yeah."

Kim and Monique shared an annoyed glance in the rear view mirror. So close, and yet so far.

"I was _totally_ gonna get that cute little green number we just got in at Club Banana the other day," said Monique, muttering half to herself and half to her friends. "Employee discount, too!"

"I guess you'll just have to wait," said Kim. She felt a flash of mischievousness. "Or maybe you can get _Josh_ to buy it for you."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means!"

"Love is in the air?" asked Felix.

Rufus made a little smooching sound, which, coupled with Felix's comment, made Monique look like she was about to shrink down and sink right into the seat from embarrassment.

"Kim's just cruisin' for a bruisin', that's all."

Before Kim could bother her friend any further, the familiar beep-beep-be-beep of her Kimmunicator rang out from her cargo pants pocket. "Um, Ron?" she asked. "Could you get that?"

Ron reached over and pulled it out while she drove. They were almost at the Bueno Nacho, too; Kim was a little disappointed to hear the sound, which probably meant Wade had some kind of update on Dementor's whereabouts. On the one hand, she would soon be winning her bet with her boyfriend, but on the other hand, it was going to interrupt their meal. Ron brought Wade's face up on the screen.

"_You're_ not Kim," the boy said.

"She's next to me, driving. What's the sitch?"

"I pinpointed the location of Dementor's helicopter. It's not far from you, actually."

"About time," said Kim.

Wade rubbed his neck a little sheepishly in the Kimmunicator screen. "Well, uh – I guess I was overthinking it a little. I figured they'd be leaving Middleton as soon as possible, so I was trying to look at security cams and radars and keeping an eye on any nearby airports, especially ones with flights going out to Europe. But it looks like they stopped just on the northern outskirts of town for some reason."

"Weird. Okay, give me the coordinates. Oh, wait," said Kim, glancing back to her passengers, "do you guys want me to drop you off before me and Ron go check this out?"

Monique looked like she was about to say something, but Felix spoke up instead. "No way! I wanna see you guys beat Dementor up. And maybe I can help, too."

"Rock on, dude!"

Ron turned around in his seat to exchange high fives with his friend.

"Rrr, Nacos!" squeaked Rufus, obviously annoyed at their trip being interrupted.

"Sorry, buddy," said Ron. "Duty calls!"

Wade finished uploading the coordinates into the Sloth's GPS system. Kim used it to change their direction and head for the edge of town. Although Ron had been fine with their change of plans, he and Rufus both looked longingly out the window as the passed by the Bueno Nacho, only inches away from the parking lot entrance – but their dinner would have to wait.

"Be strong, Ron."

"Don't worry, Kim," said Ron, wiping a tear from his eye. "I'll make it."

Before long, they were almost upon the coordinates. Wade's directions had taken them off the main road leaving out of Middleton and onto a dirt side road – after passing a few scattered houses here and there and taking another uphill turn, Kim pulled to a stop beside a copse of trees when she saw a wooden fence up ahead. It looked like the helicopter would be just past the fence, in an open field that she could see past the handful of trees beyond her car. She and Ron got out of the car. She was about to tell Felix and Monique to stay in the back, but they were both already getting out, Monique pulling Felix's wheelchair from the trunk.

"Let's check it out, Ron."

Ron handed the Kimmunicator back to her. The two of them edged forward and made their way into the little pocket of trees lining the wooden fence. They were definitely outside of the town limits now. Beyond the fence was what looked like a cow pasture, complete with an old abandoned barn in the distance. Much closer, however, was the helicopter. The rotors weren't turning; it hadn't landed recently. Like the barn in the distance, it also looked abandoned. Kim looked around and didn't see any signs of life. Not even cows.

Maybe Dementor and his goons had ditched the helicopter and taken some other transportation. But something about it seemed fishy. She brought Wade up again on the Kimmunicator.

"Hey, Wade, can you scan the helicopter from here?"

"Probably not, but put the Kimmunicator on the ground."

Felix and Monique joined them as Kim laid the Kimmunicator on the ground, wondering what Wade was planning. She watched it curiously, and Ron gave a whoop of excitement when the device unfolded a set of small wheels, looking like a remote-controlled race car. She had forgotten about that feature; Wade really _was_ a genius. The Kimmunicator drove beneath the lowest wooden rail of the fence, taking a bumpy path across the patchy pasture grass as it approached the helicopter. She knew Wade was trying to see if there were any traps set up nearby, or anyone keeping an eye on the helicopter for any movement.

"Uh, how do we know if something's up?" asked Monique.

"Wade will bring the Kimmunicator back here once-"

The explosion was like a thunderclap.

"_Get down!_"

Kim ducked reflexively, her boyfriend and friends doing the same, as an orange ball of flame enveloped the helicopter, billowing out in hot curls. The fire rose up, coiling and folding into a black mass of smoke which blotted out the afternoon sky. A rain of debris began to fall down; fortunately, they were surrounded by enough trees that it was unlikely anything big would fall on them, but still, Kim pulled her friends closer to the trunk of a larger tree as she looked out at the fiery, charred skeleton of the helicopter.

Maybe the Kimmunicator wouldn't be coming back from _that_ one.

"Guess it was a trap," said Ron.

Felix brushed some ash off his shoulder. "You _think_ so?"

Ron yelled out in pain as something struck him on the top of his head. Kim flinched as the object bounced off and rolled onto the grass beside them. After jumping up and down in pain for a few seconds, however, it looked like Ron would be alright, other than a little bump. She leaned over to pick up the object, but it was hot to the touch, burning her fingers. She released it quickly, shaking her hand. Ron gave a gasp when he saw it on the ground. Kim realized why:

It was the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer!

"Oh, wait," said Ron. "That's a coffee thermos."

Kim looked more closely as Ron nudged the thing gingerly with his toe.

He was right. Just a thermos.

As Ron turned it over, however, she noticed a piece of white paper taped to its side, which had somehow avoided being immolated in the helicopter's explosion. There was a single word written on the paper in permanent marker:

_ Boom!_

"Hilarious," said Monique.

Kim frowned. "I guess it's a fake Vortex Inducer to lure us closer. Maybe it was on a seat or something."

The group watched the helicopter's charred remains as they burned away in the field. There was something hypnotic about the sight. Kim knew Wade would probably be worried about now, considering he didn't know how close they were to the explosion when it went off; in a moment, she'd have to give him a call in the Sloth. Eventually, they turned back from the little copse of trees.

"This a regular thing for you guys?" asked Monique.

Kim felt a little bad for her friend. She hadn't asked to come along, and she looked a little sick to her stomach after having been almost launched sky high. "Um, kinda," she said. "Although I can't remember the last time we almost bought the farm from an exploding helicopter."

"I could have sworn that happened last year," said Ron.

Kim shrugged. "It all blends together sometimes."

"So, who's up for some Nacos?"

Kim smiled. She was disappointed that their lead on Dementor had just gone up in smoke, but they'd just have to keep looking, and hopefully Wade would have something sooner or later. For now, even though Monique still looked spooked, they might as well have some dinner, like Ron said. Not even near-death experiences could quell her boyfriend's appetite.

XX

* * *

_**Notes** - There you go, chapter 5. Leave a review and let me know what you think! I will be trying to post this once a week, every Wednesday. I also have another story I am working on centered on James and Drakken's college experience (along with the story of Pinky Joe) which I am excited about, and it will have some cool parallels with this one. I may begin posting that on Monday - we'll see how much writing I can get done by then._


	6. Drew Goes to Jail

**Drew Goes to Jail**

XX

The voice on the other end of the phone was irate. Ken Lipsky wasn't surprised. As he stood beside the kitchen counter and listened to the litany of complaints coming from Drew's high school teacher, he couldn't help remembering the days when the only kind of trouble his son got into was the occasional science lab mishap or lack of socialization with the other children. Those days, unfortunately, were long past. And things were getting worse.

"I agree," he told the teacher. "It's certainly not acceptable."

As the teacher droned on, he tried to remember which one it was, exactly. The science teacher? The gym teacher? It definitely wasn't the principal, and Ken had already talked to him about the incident yesterday, anyway. It was hard to keep track. He felt ashamed as he listened to the rambling description of his son's misbehavior. Drew Lipsky, a juvenile delinquent. Not literally, but sometimes it felt like it. Ken was a cop, but somehow he found it harder and harder to keep his own son in line. To teach him the value of respect, of doing things by the rules. He never imagined himself being one of those good-for-nothing parents who didn't do anything to discipline their children, and somehow he had become one. It was embarrassing. There was no other way to put it.

"Yes, ma'am," he said as the teacher's complaints drew to a close. "I'm definitely going to speak to him about it. Thanks for your call. Goodbye."

Ken hung up the phone and stood beside the counter for a moment, folding his arms and considering the situation. Drew had been suspended for a week, and while he had already met the principal about the issue, the teacher involved had apparently been angry enough to give him a personal call about his son. It didn't seem all that professional, but he understood the teacher's anger. Stealing things from the science lab, causing a chemical spill on the football field that could have endangered his classmates; Drew was lucky he hadn't been expelled. Fortunately, Ken had been able to reason with the principal and talk his son's punishment down a little. It helped that he was a police officer, even though he wouldn't go so far as to come into school in uniform and try to use that to his advantage. But people _did_ respect authority. At least most of the older ones did.

"What'd he have to say about Drewbie?" asked Claudia, popping in from the dining room.

"A lot of things."

"You're not going to get him in any more trouble, are you?"

"Are you suggesting he doesn't deserve punishment?"

"Our little boy was suspended, Ken. That's already punishment - and just for a little game that went wrong!"

"Is that what you call it? A game? They told me the grass won't regrow for another year!"

Ken held a hand to his face, trying to restrain his rising frustration. He didn't know what else to do. Drew seemed to be going farther and farther away from the road Ken had hoped he would take, and his wife didn't seem to care all that much. It was almost like she enabled him. He blamed himself, in part. Work took up so much of his time that he knew he hadn't been around enough to give Drew a strong father figure. Not to mention that his punishments had probably been too light. Groundings, allowance withdrawal; in the past he had even taken away Drew's toys, although he knew his son still played with them under his nose. Even those dolls, despite being a teenager.

Ken had tried it all – except for physical punishment. Maybe he should have spanked Drew as a child. He knew a couple of his fellow officers did that with their children. His own father had taken a belt to his bottom a few times, and he had even heard rumors that Frank did the same to his son, but that was too much for him. Discipline was one thing, but that? To Ken, it was over the line. Not only did he not want to be like Frank, who he saw as a disgrace to the good name of police officers, but he couldn't to that to his Drew. And when it came down to it, he didn't think violence was the answer. All it did was breed more violence.

But then, what _was_ the answer? He was at a loss.

"Kenny, don't you have work?"

Ken nodded to his wife. He had to go to the station in a few minutes, even though he hated to leave this issue with his son unresolved. But then, what was done was done. Drew would have to wait out his week and go back to school - at which point, for all Ken knew, the misbehavior would start all over again, and his wife would just baby their son instead of laying down a firmer hand. He sighed, about to resign himself to the fact that he couldn't do much now except go to work, when an idea popped into his head.

"Drew Lipsky!" he shouted as he left the kitchen. He knew his son was upstairs, probably working on one of his bizarre little projects. "Come down here!"

"What is it, father?"

Ken ignored his son's question, knowing that Drew would come down in a moment. His wife stood beside him as he waited by the stairway, wearing a concerned look. "You should go easy on him, Kenny," she said. "You know he doesn't mean any harm."

"Maybe not, but the boy's been getting more and more out of control lately."

Sure enough, Drew bounded down the stairs after a moment, his hair fashioned into some kind of ridiculous mullet, wearing glasses too large for his head and a jean jacket draped over a black shirt with some kind of scientific formula on it. His son looked like a weird combination of a scientist and one of the delinquents he often dealt with down at the station. Drew was definitely going through some kind of phase. _Teenagers_, Ken thought.

"What's the problem, father?"

"You know what the problem is. Your teacher just called me, talking about all the trouble you caused."

"Didn't we already go over this?"

"Yes, but apparently she was so traumatized by the chemical explosion out in the football field that she felt the need to call me again and complain. I've been thinking about what to do with you, and I just came up with an idea."

Drew scrunched up his face in displeasure. "I'm suspended, father. Isn't that enough?"

"We both know that all you're going to do this week is stay upstairs tinkering with your little toys and chemicals instead of thinking about what you've done. I want you to come to the station with me, Drew."

"And _why_ would I want to do that?"

"It doesn't matter if you want to or not. You're coming, and that's final."

Ken tried to ignore the sympathetic shrug that Claudia gave their son as he walked the rest of the way down the stairs. He motioned for Drew to follow him as the two of them walked towards the front door. He didn't have patrol duty that day, and was anticipating doing paperwork for a while when he got to work, so maybe this was a good opportunity to take his son along. Maybe he could give Drew a taste of his future; whether that taste was good or bad depended on the choices his son made.

XX

"Hey, Lipsky!"

Drew was in the process of spacing out when he heard his name called. He turned to see another police officer approaching him and his father, but realized the man was not speaking to him.

"Hello, Hobble," said Ken. "This is my son, Drew."

"Nice to meet you, Drew," said Officer Hobble as he reached out to shake Drew's hand. "How come your dad's dragging you over here? Don't you have school?"

"I've been suspended," said Drew.

Officer Hobble looked at his partner and raised an eyebrow. Ken coughed apologetically and tried to explain the situation. "I thought I'd take him here and show him how things work," he said. "Show him the kind of things we do here, the kinds of people we deal with."

"Ah. I see what you're getting at. You _do_ know that 'take your child to work day' is four days away?"

"Oh," said Ken. "I completely forgot about that."

"Well, don't let me get in your way. Nice to meet you, kid."

"Sure," said Drew dismissively.

His father gave him a look of admonishment as the officer walked away, and took Drew by the arm, leading him into the main station office, where a variety of desks and cubicles were set up in a sort of haphazard mess. They weaved through the room until they reached one particular desk, which Drew assumed belonged to his father. He gave it a casual glance, unimpressed.

"This is where I do my paperwork," said his father. "If you watch television shows it might seem like a police officer's job is all about fighting the bad guys and taking down perps, but that's not really true. There's a lot of paperwork in real life, just like with most jobs. But don't get me wrong - it's a very rewarding job, and you _do_ get to patrol whenever-"

"Why are you showing me this?" said Drew.

"I'm showing you what I do, son. This is something you could pursue in _your_ future, if you wanted."

"You've brought that up before."

"I thought I'd show you my job in person this time."

Drew sighed. His father was always trying to push law enforcement on him, but he couldn't imagine himself as a police officer. His father had never shown any interests in the things that interested _him_, so it was hard for him to muster the effort to show any interest in what his work environment was like. He had already gotten the impression that his father had an uninteresting job before, and seeing it up close was only confirming that feeling.

His father droned on about procedures and paperwork as Drew waited for the day to end. He had almost been excited about his suspension, actually – he had been working on several projects in his room, and now that he had a break from class, he thought he might focus on them a little more. No interruptions from incompetent teachers or bland, vapid classmates – it was like heaven!

There was even a promising formula he had just hammered out for molecular bonding, but tests on a couple of Cuddle Buddies he had gotten at the little toy store downtown hadn't worked out well. The resulting fused-together Cuddle Buddy abominations were something only a mad scientist could find cute. Maybe he'd put them in that Chloe girl's locker as payback for laughing at him in school last week when he dropped his lunch tray. Being suspended from school a week would give him time to work out the kinks in the formula; unfortunately, he had not been expecting his father to waste his time with this spontaneous urge for father-son bonding.

It didn't seem like much of a punishment, which was what Drew had been expecting based on his father's mood at the house. The two of them walked from room to room in the police station as Ken pointed out various things to him. Finally, they reached a pair of double doors, which his father pushed open to reveal a hallway with jail cells lining either side. Drew was surprised at how much the sight of the cells piqued his interest. He wasn't sure why; maybe _this_ part of the station just looked like it would be interesting than the others.

"This is where we keep prisoners," said his father. "At least ones who aren't much trouble. If we have anybody who's really dangerous, we transfer them pretty quickly to a high security prison in Upperton that's more well-equipped to deal with that kind of thing. Do you want to see some of them?"

"What, the prisoners?"

"Sure."

Drew resisted smirking at the strange question.. "Okay," he said. "Why not.".

Ken led his son down the hallway. Drew was simultaneously amused and a little unsettled at the way his father was leading him past jail cells and pointing out criminals as if they were zoo animals. Spending the day at his father's job was turning out to be even weirder than he would have expected. One heavily-tattooed man hissed at him from inside his cage, while another asked to be let free. They made a quick tour of the holding area and then left, back to the rest of the station.

"So what do you think?" asked Ken.

"What do I think about what?"

"Those people in there. Did it look like they were having much fun?"

"I suppose not. Why?"

"A lot of those people aren't first timers, you know. The one at the end of the hall, Jimmy - he's in here all the time for public intoxication. We usually just throw him in there until he sobers up and then send him out again. And I guarantee you that most of those guys started out young. Instead of going to school, focusing on their education, they were fooling around and getting into trouble."

Drew nodded as he listened to his father. Subtlety wasn't one of Ken's strong points.

"You see what I'm getting at, Drew?"

"It's not my fault, father! How was I supposed to know the football team was about to use the field right when I set off the chemical reaction? I chose the field so I could _avoid_ injuries like what happened last time in the science room, you know. And because it would be easier to see how far the missile got launched," he added, wishing he had gotten time to take more accurate measurements before his test was interrupted by the football team's unexpected arrival. Those poor jocks hadn't expected to be catching stray rocket parts instead of their football. Even for jocks, Drew actually felt a little sorry for them after how horribly wrong his launch had gone.

"Drew, I took you here because I'm worried about you. I don't like the way you've been behaving lately, and even if your mother doesn't make it as clear as I do, I know she doesn't either. Do you want to end up like those people in the jail cells? Or do you want to end up like me, or the people I work with, achieving something useful and contributing to society? It seems like you think school is some kind of joke, but even if you don't want to be a police officer, you won't be much of _anything_ if you don't take it seriously. I know you like to do whatever you want, but did those people in their jail cells seem free to you? Can they do whatever _they_ want?"

Drew was becoming increasingly irritated with his father. He didn't know why he had so much trouble at school; it wasn't like he _tried_ to get in trouble and slack off. He hated the uniformity of it all, the busywork, the uninformed teachers, the repetitive schedules and assignments. And, most of all, the insufferable classmates who treated him like a freak, unwilling to recognize his genius. There was no freedom in any of it. No flexibility at all.

"Hey, Ken, where you been? And who's that?"

Drew and his father had just left the prison cells, on their way back to the main office room; they turned as another officer emerged from his separate office. Although Drew hadn't met the man before, he knew it was the Chief of Police, judging by the haughty demeanor, and – more obviously – the sign on the office door that read _Chief of Police._

"Chief Brody, hello. This is my son. I wanted to show him around the station. I hope you don't mind."

"I _do_ mind, Lipsky. This ain't 'Take Your Kid to Work Day'. At least not yet. You got a job to do."

"Sorry, sir, I just thought it wouldn't hurt to show him around a little."

"You got work to do, Lipsky. And I need you out patrollin' in a minute, but we gotta talk in my office first. Let your kid run around in the lounge or somethin', alright?"

Drew watched as his father meekly joined the police chief in his private office, leaving him alone in the main room. It was strange, how his father could act so authoritative around him, but then give in to the chief. He supposed that was part of the job. Still, just from that brief encounter, the chief already seemed rude and overbearing. Not the kind of person Drew got along with.

The more he thought about the way the police chief had talked to his father, the more it rubbed him the wrong way. He didn't like the man's attitude, and as much as he had a hard time relating to his father, he didn't like the way his father's tone had changed around the chief. He knew it was a chain of command, of course. The chief was his dad's boss, and he called the shots. But his father was normally so authoritarian. Seeing him in front of the chief, even for just a moment, had given Drew a glimpse of some part of his father he hadn't seen before. A strange new wrinkle in the man's behavior.

He wasn't sure he liked it.

Several police officers were milling about, but they weren't paying much attention to him. Drew knew where the lounge was, although he considered just leaving the station and walking home instead. His house wasn't far, and he could already see that his visit would be a waste of his time. Lacking anything better to do, he began to wander around the station on his own, just to see how much he could poke around before an officer took offense to a teenager walking around without supervision. The station was fairly hectic. Not very well-organized. He wondered if all Middleton police stations were the same, or if there even _were_ any in town besides this one. He didn't really know that much about the details of his father's job, other than it took up all the man's time.

So _this_ was where his father worked. He had stopped by the station with his mother on a couple of occasions, waiting for his dad to get out after a day of work, but he had never really been inside the building itself before. His father had always talked to him about what he wanted to do in the future, always bringing up law enforcement, but at the same time, Ken never went into much detail about his own job. It was a strange dichotomy, Drew thought.

The entrance to the police station was at the end of the main office room; Drew and his father had come in that way, passing through a small lobby and check-in area. He made his way past the desks and partitions, apologizing to various officers he brushed by until he made it to the door and entered the lobby, considering the option of leaving and going home. His dad would be angry, but Drew didn't care. He was a rebel.

He walked into the lobby and looked around. A police officer sat behind a plate glass partition in the check-in area, giving Drew a bored look. Across from the check-in was a waiting area filled with a few potted plants, a faded, orangeish couch - worn away and torn in spots - and a number of plastic chairs. The walls were lined with a combination of motivational posters and dire warnings about the consequences of crime. Another police officer was talking to the one behind the check-in partition, and on the faded couch sat a burly tattooed man – handcuffed, but otherwise unrestrained. Drew wondered why he didn't just run out the front door. No one was really paying attention to him.

"Move out of my way, child!"

Drew turned around to find he was blocking another doorway. He stepped aside and let a scrawny-looking young man enter the lobby. The man was older than he was, but not by much. He had an impetuous air about him, and the way he moved as he walked towards the check-in partition was very awkward. Almost bird-like. The man grabbed a few things from a tray which the officer behind the glass partition extended through an opening, and then made his way towards the door. Something about the man piqued Drew's interest, so he followed him out of the station.

"Are you a criminal?" he asked on a hunch.

The man turned around on the front steps of the police station. He looked suspicious for a moment.

"Of course not! I'm a law-abiding citizen. They locked me up unfairly, and then realized their mistake. Bahaha!"

A likely story, Drew thought.

"What's your name?"

"Avery."

"What did they bring you in for?"

"Robbery."

Drew wasn't sure what he wanted from the conversation, but the man suddenly came closer, as if deciding that Drew could be trusted with a secret. He leaned in closer and spoke in a furtive whisper. "I really _did_ rob the store, you know, but the police here are incompetent."

Now, for some reason, Drew's interest was _really_ piqued.

"What did you steal?"

"I steal whatever I want. It's not like there's much to steal here in Middleton, anyway. The only place worth stealing from would be the Middleton Institute of Science and Technology, or maybe the Space Center, but you'd _really_ get in trouble if you tried stealing any high-level stuff from there."

Drew listened more closely. He had heard of both places, and both sounded like they would have lots of fun toys for him to play with, but he hadn't considered stealing from them. He didn't know why some common criminal would have any interest, though. "Why would you want to steal from there?" he asked.

"To get into the big leagues, boy. You know, supervillains."

Drew nodded. He was aware of supervillains. He had read comics, after all.

"If you really want to go into supervillainy, though, you have to go to Go City. That's the place to be. From what I've heard, that place is ripe for the picking. The Mayor over there keeps talking about hiring a team of superheroes to protect the city, but it's just hot air. People like the mayor are just bad guys in business suits, after all. And even if they _did_ hire superheroes, that's just part of the fun. No good supervillain is worth his salt without an arch nemesis or two."

"Can you have two arch nemeses?" asked Drew. "Isn't that, like, contradictory?"

"Details, details. The point is, you'll never find any of that excitement here in Middleton."

"Why not?" asked Drew. "This seems like as good a place as any for supervillainy."

"About the biggest threat they have here is teen girls," laughed Avery, before getting more serious and placing a cautionary hand on Drew's back. "Believe me, I know. Don't make the same mistakes I did. They'll tell you they just want something casual, and then they turn out completely insane."

Drew nodded. He was beginning to find the conversation a little uncomfortable. Just as he was about to get himself out of it and walk hurriedly down the street in the direction of his home, the police station's large wooden doors opened up and his father poked his head out.

"Drew!" he said. "Where have you been?"

"Just chatting, father."

"With _that_ man? I don't think so, Drew. Get away from him."

Drew stepped back up the front steps of the station, towards his father. Avery looked at the two of them and hissed before running away in a strangely avian fashion. Drew wouldn't be all that surprised if the man started flapping his arms in an attempt to lift off. Definitely a weirdo, but he had given Drew some things to think about.

"Why were you talking to him, son?"

"I don't know. He seemed interesting."

"Well, he's not. He's good for nothing. We've had him in here before."

"How come he keeps getting out?"

"It's complicated. The chief wants me to go out on patrol in a few minutes, so I'm going to have to get to work.

"I thought you didn't have to patrol today."

"I have to do what he tells me to do, son. That's how life works – you should learn how to apply that to your classes a little more, and maybe you wouldn't get suspended."

Drew stared sullenly ahead, trying to ignore his father's heavy-handed lesson.

"Can you get home by yourself?"

"Yes, father. I'm not a child anymore."

Drew grimaced as his father drew him into a quick, unexpected hug just after casting another suspicious look at Avery's fleeing form. Through the open door and inside the station lobby, Drew could see his father's partner, Officer Hobble, waiting patiently. The man gave him a tip of his hat before Ken went in and closed the door, leaving Drew out on the station's front steps.

This outing was more unusual than he had anticipated. Something about Avery's attitude, strange as it had been, was also a little thrilling. He wasn't straight-laced and restrained like Drew's father. And he didn't look ignorant and crass like some of the other criminals he had seen. Avery had a confident attitude, as if he knew he could do whatever he wanted and get away with it somehow. He wondered how the man lived. And how supervillains lived, too.

Drew didn't want to spend time behind bars, but then, he didn't understand his father's interest in police work, either. To him, all that paperwork and procedure seemed like another kind of prison. He didn't care about the law, and he definitely didn't want to be ordered around. He just wanted to do things _his_ way.

XX

* * *

_**Notes** - Got a little lazy to today, but I managed to look over this chapter and post it up. Hope you guys enjoy it. Now to decide if I want to write more or just watch TV all night..._


	7. On The Job

**On the Job**

XX

The kitchen's entryway gaped at Drakken like an open mouth as he listened to the voices inside. His parents were already in the room – or, more specifically, his mother and his worst enemy currently masquerading as his new dad. Drakken wondered how it had gotten to the point that he was hesitating before he even went into his own kitchen. After one last attempt at bolstering his mental fortitude, he stepped forward and took the plunge.

Dementor looked up from the kitchen table. "Hello, mine son!"

"Good morning, _Hans_," replied Drakken through gritted teeth. He hated calling Dementor by his actual name – it reeked of false familiarity – but he didn't want to deal with his mother's complaining, seeing as she was sitting right beside Dementor at the kitchen table. The two of them were early risers. At least, earlier risers than Drakken had been lately. It was hard to get out of bed when you knew what kind of familial horrors you'd be dealing with, day in and day out. His cousin Eddie wasn't at the table, though - the man slept even later than Drakken did, so perhaps he just wasn't up yet.

"Where are the Evil-O's?" asked Drakken as he opened a shelf above the kitchen counter.

"I believe I have eaten de last of dem," said Dementor. "MY APOLOGIES!"

Drakken winced at the completely unnecessary leap in voice pitch. Dementor... eating... his cereal... he fought back the urge to scream. Evil-O's were his favorite cereal! He could have sworn he had bought an extra box just to make sure they didn't run out too quickly, but nooo. Of _course_ they'd run out. There was no happiness to be found anywhere, even in cereal. Life was an unending vortex of misery - cruel, painful, and lacking in high-quality cereal. Well, not completely when it came to the cereal. He'd have to settle for Villain Bites, a markedly inferior product that got smooshy in milk within minutes.

Drakken sighed as he grabbed a bowl and spoon along with his cereal box and sat down at the table with a huff. He didn't want to be eating with his mother and Dementor, but he was very hungry and felt too defeated to take the food elsewhere. Besides - if he went back to his room to eat the cereal, it would almost be like letting his nemesis win. This was _his_ kitchen table.

"Drewbie," said his mother, "aren't you forgetting something?"

Drakken paused in the middle of his cereal pouring. A few lonely Villain Bites hit the bowl and rolled to a standstill at the bottom, lonely and milkless. Forgetting something... did his mother like to say a little prayer before meals? No, he never remembered doing that. But then again, he wouldn't mind saying a prayer if it could get Dementor launched out of a cannon and flung miles away, never to bother him again.

"No mother, I can't think of anything."

His mother clucked and shook a finger at him. "Your chores!"

Dementor nodded in agreement as Drakken struggled to think of what his mother could be talking about. She hadn't asked him to do any chores in the last few days, and even if there _were_ any chores to do, his henchmen had returned earlier that week. There was no way a supervillain like himself would stoop to simple chores. Not to mention Dementor's henchmen could do them. They were getting free room and board, after all. And Drakken was pretty sure one of them had used his shower the other day, judging by an inexplicable clump of blond hair he had found collected in a soggy heap around the drain. A few chores was the _least_ they could do in return.

"What chores, mother? And why can't the henchmen do them?"

"Don't be lazy, Drew. Look at that garbage can over there! It's just about to blow up like a volcano!"

"Yes, it is good dat you do de chores," said Dementor. "It is de character building."

"Why don't _you_ do them, _Hans_?"

"I am de father. You will OBEY mine ORDERS!"

Drakken stood up with a snarl and stomped over to the garbage can, removing the bag and tying the mouth into a knot before he headed for the front door. The bag was actually filled to the brim – Drakken guessed his henchmen, or more likely Dementor's henchmen, had been coming up into the cottage and hanging out, even though they were supposed to stay in the subterranean lair beneath it.

He didn't like giving in to Dementor's orders, but his mother had asked him to do it, and frankly Drakken didn't want to deal with their nonsense. He just wanted to eat his cereal. Hopefully Dementor would leave soon. The man had been leaving every day for some sort of mysterious work he was doing. Then, Drakken might escape down to his lair under the cottage and have a little peace and quiet - save for the fact that there were twice as many henchmen down there as usual.

Outside the cottage, the weather was gray and blustery. It matched Drakken's mood to a tee. He walked past his mother's car and lugged the trash bag across the lawn until he reached the forest's edge, feeling a few stray raindrops splat against his skin on the way there. Mundane things like garbage collection were handled by his henchmen, but even then, Drakken knew that no garbage trucks – or any other vehicles, for that matter – ever made their way up the winding gravel road to his cottage. He had built it in a secluded spot in the middle of a forest for a reason, after all: to avoid needless attention. For now, he would stow the bag behind a tree so Dementor and his mother wouldn't complain. Let someone else take care of it later.

When Drakken returned to the cottage and went inside, he saw Dementor had already changed into some kind of ridiculous suit and tie for whatever it was he had been doing over the last few days. The outfit was several sizes too large for the man, and along with the oversized briefcase he was holding, it made him look like a midget businessman. At least that was what Drakken thought.

"So," he said, "ever going to tell me just what it is that you're doing when you leave the cottage every day? Or where you're going, for that matter? Don't tell me you decided to get a job outside the, uh," - Drakken hesitated as he noticed his mother still sitting at the kitchen table - "outside the radio business?"

"Nein!" said Dementor. "I am simply going to mine radio work."

Claudia shook her head good-naturedly at the two men. "I still say you boys should make a radio show together!"

"I think not, mother!"

"Drew is correct," said Dementor. "It vould not be a good idea. Very different styles."

"That's correct, _Hans_. I help people on my show, whereas you're more of a shock jock."

"Help people?" Dementor chuckled at the thought. "Dat is hard to believe, Drew."

Drakken glowered as his fatherly foe gave his mother a kiss and headed for the front door, waving like some sort of ridiculous caricature of a suburban dad as he left the cottage. Drakken heard his mother's car's engine sputter to life, followed by the screech of tires on gravel as Dementor drove away. Not only was he happy to borrow Drakken's lair, but apparently Dementor couldn't be bothered to get his own car, either. Or at least take that helicopter he always used. Drakken grumbled as he walked through the kitchen.

"Where are you going, Drew?"

He had been about to sneak downstairs into the lair, but he turned to find his mother in close pursuit.

"Ah, mother. I have work as well, you know. Need to bring in the bucks!"

"You're going downstairs to do your radio show? Can I come?"

"I'm afraid not. Um - it's a very sensitive show, you see, and I can't have any interruptions."

"Where's that green cutie-patootie you're always working with, then? Maybe I could chat with her about why she hasn't made the moves on my little Drewbie yet." Claudia gave her son a knowing wink and a nudge.

"Please don't. And Shego is my assistant, so I'm sure she's downstairs getting ready for the show already. I have to go now, have fun up here!"

"Well alright, honey. If you insist. Good luck with your show!"

"Thank you, mother."

Drakken was unable to avoid sharing a brief hug with his mother, but he breathed a sigh of relief as he managed to escape to the elevator that descended into his subterranean lair. Sometimes she could be a lot harder to shake, but he had gotten away this time. The elevator took him down slowly, punishing his ears with some kind of awful combination of polka, rap, and easy listening, until it came to a halt at the command center's floor. He would _have_ to change that music soon. Bob probably that picked that, he thought.

The door slid open, and Drakken stepped out to find the room swarming with henchmen. Many of them were his own men, but he was displeased to see that a number of them were Dementor's goons. It was easy to tell the difference - they were dressed in gray suits, which were stretched to their limits by bulging muscles that made his henchmen look puny in comparison. Drakken twisted his lips in displeasure as he observed the difference. He really needed to get his subordinates on some kind of regular workout schedule.

It wasn't really the difference in physical size that bothered him, though. It was the fact that his henchmen were mingling with Dementor's at all. The two groups had been keeping apart over the last few days, ever since Drakken's henchmen returned from their weekend off, but things seemed to be changing. It was not a good sign. As far as he was concerned, he wanted Dementor's henchmen isolated and ostracized until the right opportunity came to remove them from his lair. Along with their insufferable master.

"Bob!" he shouted as he approached his most reliable subordinate – other than Shego. The man was sitting in a desk chair and mingling with a couple of Dementor's henchmen. The three of them were looking at a computer terminal on the command platform, laughing uproariously for some reason.

"Yeah, boss?"

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Just watchin' an internet video with Myron and Ted. Check it out, the cat jumps right at the baby's face!"

Drakken approached the three men and stared angrily at the computer monitor at the video they were watching. He had to admit it was quite amusing. That baby didn't see it coming! But still, this was no time for humor. "Bob," he said testily, "would you mind explaining to me why you aren't doing any work?"

"Uh, you haven't given us much to do in the last few days, boss."

"What about _you_ two?"

Dementor's henchmen, Myron and Ted, snapped crisply to attention even though they didn't really have to answer to Drakken. "We're on break, sir!" explained Ted.

Myron nodded in agreement. "We're mostly waiting for Dementor to get back. We don't have much to do while my brother-in-law is getting phase two of Operation Moonshaker rolling."

"Your brother-in-law?"

"Dementor," said Myron. "I'm married to his sister!"

"How wonderful. By the way, since you brought it up, could you give me any details on this 'Operation Moonshaker' your – um – brother-in-law is carrying out? He hasn't had the chance to fill me in on it yet."

"No can do, sir. It's highly classified."

_"Nnngh._ Fine. Bob, can I speak to you in private?"

Drakken ushered the man aside to an empty part of the command center, so neither of Dementor's henchmen couldn't eavesdrop on them. "Why are you mingling with them?" he asked. "They work for our enemy."

"Enemy, boss? I thought Dementor was your stepfather now."

"That just makes him _more_ of an enemy, Bob."

Bob scratched his head in confusion. "So what is it you want me to do again?"

"Don't trust any of Dementor's goons. He commandeered this lair by marrying my mother, and while he may be pushing the whole father schtick, he doesn't have _me_ fooled. I'm his arch nemesis – besides Kim Possible, perhaps, but she's a different, slightly more irritating form of arch nemesis – or maybe less, I'm not sure – anyway, the point is, he thinks he can gain the upper hand by infiltrating my family and home. But we know better, don't we, Bob?"

Bob laughed nervously. "Do we, boss?"

"Yes. Yes we do. Keep an eye on Ted and Myron over there, and the rest of Dementor's henchmen. Tell everyone else to do the same. See if you can get any details about what Dementor's been doing when he leaves every day. Meanwhile, I shall begin phase one of my own plan!"

"Sweet! What's it called?"

Drakken's hands were extended into the air, as he was about to clench them like claws and let out the obligatory mad cackle that followed the announcement of any good supervillain scheme. A single half-hearted 'ha' escaped from his lips, however, before the laugh fizzled out.

A name? He hadn't thought about a name. That was a good question. It had to be something relating to his scheme in some way. Something about the mass hypnosis virus he would be spreading. "Let's see," he said. "Operation Itty Bitty Britty Bikini?"

Bob stared blankly at his boss.

Drakken noticed that he had suggested the name for his scheme during a sudden pause in conversation among the henchmen in his command center. A number of them were standing nearby, and turned abruptly at the sound of his announcement. He heard a few scattered giggles coming from around the room. He was very displeased to notice that some of the gigglers were coming from his own men.

"It's in reference to the fake email header I will be sending to help spread my online hypno-virus!" he cried. "Unauthorized Britina Bikini Pics!"

The giggles rose into outright laughter, and Drakken felt a flush of embarrassment spread across his cheeks. None of these henchmen had any appreciation for the difficulty inherent in coming up with a name for an evil plan on the spot. He wasn't surprised by Dementor's goons, but even his own henchmen were laughing at him! He struggled to maintain his composure as he turned back to Bob, ignoring the loud guffaws.

"Bob," he said, "where is Shego?"

"I think she's in the gym room."

"Thank you."

Drakken excused himself from the command center as quickly as possible, although he had to squeeze his way through a collection of henchmen – mostly belonging to Dementor – who had crowded around the step leading off the central platform as they laughed at him. The sounds died away as he left the room and made his way down a hallway in the direction of the gym. He told himself Shego would understand, but he knew he was fooling himself. She'd probably laugh more than any of them. Perhaps he'd have to think a little harder about a good name for his plan.

Drakken heard Shego's voice, edged with a hint of anger, coming from down the hall. He passed through a small aerobics room on his way to the larger weight room. "How about you just spot me without any comments?" came her voice from inside the weight room.

"I'm just saying, if you really wanted a workout, I have some ideas, babe! Seriously!"

A roar of anger came from the weight room.

"First, no chance – second, stop calling me babe! It's sleazy!"

Before Drakken could enter the weight room, he barely had time to duck as a musclebound man flew through the door and over his head, smashing into a treadmill in the aerobics room. He looked back in surprise; his cousin Eddie groaned as he slowly extricated himself from the treadmill's wreckage. Apparently the man _hadn't_ been sleeping late. Inside the weight room, Drakken saw Shego standing beside a bench press, hands engulfed in glowing green flame.

"Shego," he said, "I've been looking for you. Can we talk?"

"I'd love to, Doctor D. Hey, Ed, you think we could have a little privacy, or do _we_ need to 'talk' more?"

Eddie moved a little so he could see through the weight room door, although he made sure to stay a few feet away, well into the aerobics room. He laughed nervously. "Uh, you know what? I think I worked out enough today. Seriously. You guys talk it out and stuff. I'm gonna go hang with Aunt C."

His cousin beat a hasty retreat from the aerobics room as Drakken stepped into the weight room. Shego left the bench press beside which she had been standing in order to close the door behind Drakken after he came in. She rolled her eyes and grabbed a towel, sitting down on a bench along the side of the wall. Drakken took a seat beside her; he thought he caught a whiff of BO, but after what he had seen with his cousin, he knew that suggesting Shego take a shower would be a _very_ bad idea.

"I hope I didn't interrupt your workout?" he asked his right-hand woman.

"Nope. I was almost done when Motor Ed came in pretending to work out."

"Pretending?"

"He was pretty much just hitting on me the whole time. All week long! It's driving me up the wall!"

"Ah. That is unfortunate."

"So what'd you wanna talk about?"

"I was wondering if you knew anything more than I did about what Dementor is up to."

"You tell me, Doctor D. He's _your_ dad."

"_Stepfather,_" said Drakken testily. "The 'step' part means it's fake, Shego."

"Oh yeah? Hadn't heard that before. Still, he's been acting a lot like an actual dad lately, haven't you noticed? It's kinda cute, to be honest. Maybe he really wants to be your daddy."

"I don't think so, Shego. It's all a ruse. Don't let him pull the wool over your eyes!"

"Ever considered the possibility that you're being too paranoid? You two have a lot in common, you know."

"We have nothing in common, Shego! _Nothing!_"

Shego gave a little whistle and held her hands up to calm Drakken before she took a sip from a water bottle on the bench. He pouted angrily for a moment, but he knew what she was getting at. Maybe she did have a point. Just a tiny one. Their interests in world domination were similar, even if Dementor was a rank amateur while Drakken was the pinnacle of professional perfection.

"Perhaps we have a _small_ amount in common."

"I'm just playing devil's advocate here," said Shego. "I don't know why Dementor would be putting so much effort into putting on an act. I mean, no offense to your mom, but I'm not sure the guy needs to put up the whole father figure schtick on a regular basis if he wants to fool her. It's not like she's hard to fool - she thinks you guys are radio show hosts, for crying out loud!"

"That may be true," said Drakken, surprised to find himself a bit indignant at Shego's assessment of his mother, even if it was pretty much right on the mark, "but if Dementor really wanted to be my father, why would he be hiding the details of his plan from me?"

Shego shrugged nonchalantly. She didn't seem to have any strong opinions on the matter, which wasn't unusual. Shego didn't have strong opinions on much of anything, except for the stupidity of most of Drakken's schemes. As far as he could see, Dementor infiltrating his family mainly just provided Shego with another avenue to make fun of him and encourage awkward situations for her own amusement. He began to grow tired of the father talk.

"Moving on, Shego – it seems to me that Dementor's world domination plan is well under way, which means we need to step up _our_ game if we want to take over the world before he does. I've been thinking about what you said earlier, and perhaps it _would_ be wise to get a little help from Frugal Lucre. I'm going to visit him today."

"Well, count me in. I need a break from your cousin and these henchmen running around everywhere."

"Very well. We should leave soon, while Dementor is gone."

"Whatever. I'm gonna go find something to eat in the henchman's lounge room."

Drakken nodded as his sidekick left the gym room. He sat on the bench for a few more moments, although the unpleasant smell of sweat lingered in the air. Now that his lair was supporting twice the usual amount of henchmen, that probably meant double the body odor, too. He was never a big fan of gyms; he liked to keep his body in shape using a few odds and ends he concocted for himself in the lab. Like steroids, but easier and faster, and the side effects weren't bad at all. Except that _one_ time his miscalculated the dose. He shuddered at the memory. Despite the peace and quiet it offered, Drakken decided he couldn't stand the pungent odor of his surroundings anymore and got up to leave.

As he walked through the corridors of his subterranean lair, he couldn't help thinking about what Shego had said. No, he thought – there was no way Dementor really wanted to be his father. Disregarding the fact that Drakken was older and wiser, there was also the trust issue. Why didn't Dementor share his plans? Why was he keeping secrets? As Shego had suggested, that was their most significant shared interest. Mad science; power; proving themselves to their puny inferiors. Dominating the world. If Dementor couldn't share _that_ with him, there was no way his attempts to bond were genuine. It was all just a ploy.

The man was a liar, and Drakken wasn't falling for it.

XX

The winding road made its way up a gently sloping hillside. Before long, a familiar concrete wall appeared outside James Possible's left window. He whistled a cheery tune, although the radio was not on, and slowed down as the entry gates to the Middleton Space Center's employee parking area approached. Taking a left to pull into the checkpoint, James saw that Frank was on duty at the gatehouse. He rolled down the window; fortunately, although clouds still hung menacingly in the sky, it had stopped raining just before he left for work.

"Hey, Frank," he said. "How's it going?"

"Pretty good, Mr. Possible. Another day at the coal mine, eh?"

James chuckled. "Yep. Haven't got much sleep lately with this latest project we have going on."

"The moon one, right?"

"That's right. Things will be ready for takeoff pretty soon, and I've been putting in a lot of extra hours. But it's an exciting time, let me tell you. You should see the new experimental rocket fuel we developed just for this mission, it's got a combination of-"

Even before he started listing compounds and additives, James could see that Frank was beginning to nod off in anticipation of hearing a scientific spiel. Frank was a good guy, but James sometimes forgot that not everyone who worked at the Middleton Space Center had the same passion for science he did. That even applied to some of the scientists working there, sadly enough. But then again, some of the new employees were promising.

"Sorry, Frank," he laughed. "I'll let you get back to checking in the employees."

"Not a problem, sir. Have a great day!"

James pulled into the lot and took his usual parking space before making his way into the building. Things were moving at a hectic pace inside, as they had been over the last week or two. James smiled at a receptionist and nodded to a few coworkers he recognized on his way to the lab where he worked. "Morning, Dr. Porter!" he said with a nod to the young blonde passing him by in the hallway.

Vivian Porter gave him a wink and a sultry wave as she approached from down the hall. James politely tried to overlook the flirting; he remembered how nervous she had been when she first began working in the center after that unfortunate incident with Dr. Fen. The woman was a genius, so she had no reason to be nervous even starting out at the center, but that nervousness had disappeared once she got to know everyone. Unfortunately, she had also realized that acting flirty towards James made _him_ a little nervous. James knew she was only joking, but she seemed to love using that knowledge to give him a hard time.

"Hey, Dr. Possible," she said, "I ran a few more tests on the rover's artificial intelligence. I left the printouts on your desk in the lab."

"Thank you, Dr. Porter!"

"That's a nice tie you've got on, by the way. See ya!"

The two of them parted ways as James entered his laboratory, ready for a solid day of work. He knew he'd be tired at the end of the day, but it was rewarding all the same, and whenever the Space Center undertook a big project like this one, James found that the anticipation of seeing everything come together was well worth any hardship. There was nothing quite like carrying a project to its conclusion with no major hitches. He idly wondered if the supervillains his daughter fought all the time had the same attitude towards their evil schemes.

Not only did he enjoy working when it led to a reward, but things at the Space Center were getting a little easier now that he had an intelligent intern getting the hang of things and picking up some of his workload. James looked around the room and saw someone typing away at a computer – think of the devil.

"Dieter!" he said. "Morning!"

"Ah, good morning, Dr. Possible," said Dieter. "I vas just filling in some of de launch parameters."

"Good, good," said James. "I'll have to look over them later."

James put down his briefcase at his own desk and organized a few papers before taking a short walk around the laboratory, making sure everything looked shipshape. Experimental rocket parts looked okay; experimental rocket fuel safely contained within its anti-contamination chamber; clawed hands not going haywire and clawing at anything. A few readouts at various computer terminals looked alright. James finished his morning inspection, which was almost like a sacred ritual after all the time he had worked at the Space Center, and walked over to see what Dieter was up to. The man turned in his desk chair. For some reason, James got the impression that he was not in a good mood.

"Something wrong, Dieter?"

"Oh, it is nothing."

"Come on, now, you can tell me."

"Vell, if you must know, it is a bit of de problems vith de family."

"Hmm, that's a shame. What kind of problems?"

"I already told you about mine recent marriage and new son, of course. It is just more of de problems with de stepson."

"Gotcha. Not warming up to you, is he?"

"I am afraid not. I have tried de things dat you mentioned, such as de bonding over baseball, und nothing seems to vork. I do not know vat else to do! I have NO MORE IDEAS!"

James took an involuntary step backwards. Sometimes Dieter got a bit overexcited. For such a small man, he could have a really loud voice sometimes. Something about the Germanic accent and the squared-off goatee made him seem even more strangely authoritarian for someone of his stature. Maybe the man was just overcompensating.

"I suppose that kind of thing takes time," said James. "You can't rush something like that – it's good that you're trying to bond with him and show him you care about him, but you need to give your stepson some time to get used to you. You don't know what his situation is with his real father, and he might feel a little strange about you showing up in his life. You have to be patient with him."

"Patience," said Dieter. "I do not have much of de patience."

"It takes time to build trust in a situation like that."

"Trust, you say?"

"That's right. Once he gets to know you, hopefully he'll learn to trust you and accept you as a part of his life. That's why it's a good thing you're bonding with him – you two need to share your lives with each other, but it just takes time. You can't force it, or else you'll drive him away."

"But no one ever gets de things dey want by just dawdling around, no?"

James frowned. "I suppose not. But I'm not saying you should dawdle around..."

"Is it not sometimes best to make things de way you vant them to be by showing de authority? A father is supposed to have de authority, is he not?"

James found his advice getting jumbled as he tried to think about the best way to answer. Although he hadn't worked with Dieter for very long, he had already seen that the man was a real go-getter. Very smart, very dedicated to his work, but a little domineering, especially for an intern. James couldn't help but think maybe Dieter's outlook wasn't doing him any favors when it came to interacting with his stepson, but criticizing the man's personality made James feel uncomfortable. He was trying to get Dieter to take the hint subtly, but it didn't seem to be working.

"Ah, enough of de family talk," said Dieter. "It is getting on mine nerves. Let us talk about the moon launch program."

"Good idea. Right down to work – I like your style."

"Yes, yes. I vas wondering if you could show me de rocket itself again? I vas confused about the way some of the compartments and on-board equipment worked. Particularly how de moon rover is going to be deployed from de landing module."

"Good questions, Dieter! Let's take a walk down to the launching chamber and take a look, shall we?"

"ABSOLUTELY!"

The screaming was another part of the intern's personality that James had to imagine worked against him. He always thought of himself as a fairly cool cucumber, which helped whenever family drama cropped up – fortunately for him, that didn't happen very often. But Dieter was so excitable that he could easily imagine it causing friction, unless his family got used to it. James could only hope that Dieter's attempts to bond with his stepson, like their moon launch project, would soon meet with success.


	8. Like Minds, Like Moms

**Like Minds, Like Moms**

XX

Drakken and Shego tiptoed through the house, trying as best they could not to make any noise, but every step they took seemed to shoot a loud creak right through the walls. They had just come up from the lair in order to go pay a visit to Frugal Lucre, and it would be better if they didn't get sidetracked. At least Drakken had insisted that was the case. Only a few more steps, until...

"Drewbie! What are you two doing?"

Drakken and Shego froze in mid-sneak. Claudia Lipsky, as usual, appeared from nowhere and caught them in the hallway leading past the kitchen and living room entrances. Drakken groaned as his mother stood in front of them like a tiny, frizzy-headed boulder, blocking their escape route. They had _almost_ made it to the front door. Almost, but not quite.

"Told you we shoulda gone out through the vehicle bay out in the forest," whispered Shego.

Drakken knew she was right, but it would have taken longer to walk out that way and then come back to the little faux-shack at the edge of the cottage's lawn to get the hovercraft inside. Coming up from the lair and sneaking through the cottage itself was faster - but once again, Drakken's impatience had turned right around and smacked him in the face. He should have known there was no way to sneak past his mother when she was in the house.

"We're just going out, mother."

"Out? Where?"

Drakken looked down at the papers clutched in his hands. One paper prominently displayed the words 'Internet Hypnosis Supervirus Notes' across the top in big block lettering. Drakken made sure to cover it quickly with his arm as he drew the papers closer to himself. _That_ was a close one.

"Um, we're going to be doing some interviewing in the field. For the radio show."

"Could you do me a favor, honey?"

"What favor?"

"Your cousin Eddie's been bouncing off the walls all day, and I'm afraid I just can't handle him. Maybe you could take him out with you and let him get a little fresh air? Who knows, maybe he'll take a liking to your job and stop hanging around in the junk yard all the time! I always worry about that cousin of yours cutting himself on one of those pieces of rusty metal he's always lugging around and getting tetanus, and you _know_ he doesn't have any health insu-"

"Mother, I'm afraid Shego and I really need to go."

"Come on Drewbie. Do it for mommy?"

Claudia gave her son a pout and shuffled forward to begin pinching him. Drakken had been around his mother long enough to know what that shuffling meant, and those eager fingers. Anticipating the embarrassment about to befall him, he was on the verge of caving in when Shego brushed him aside. "Good idea Mrs. Lipsky," said Shego. "Or, uh, is it Mrs. Demens? I don't really know."

"We're keeping our last names, dear."

"Gotcha. Anyway, now that I think about it, I don't really need to help Doctor D out on this one, it's just a few easy interviews. Right, Drew?"

Drakken was about to protest at Shego bailing on him, but he realized his right hand woman was just trying to do whatever she could do to get a break from his cousin. It was true that Eddie seemed to never get the hint when it came to barking up the wrong tree with Shego, and as his henchwoman was giving him the second puppy dog pout he had seen in the last minute, Drakken decided he'd be willing to leave her behind and take Eddie instead. He didn't really mind Eddie that much, anyway. After that exciting Doomvee the two of them had built together back in the day, Drakken even had a certain respect for his cousin, despite 'seriously' punctuating the end of every sentence that came out of the man's mouth.

"Alright," he said. "I suppose Eddie can come along."

"Eddie!" screeched his mother, glancing back in the direction of the living room. "You're going out with your cousin while he does his radio show!"

"Rock and roll!"

Drakken left Shego behind as he went into the living room and joined his cousin. The two of them emerged into the hallway and opened the front door as Claudia Lipsky waved goodbye. Eddie turned back and blew Shego a kiss before leaving; Drakken flinched at the sight, expecting her to lob a ball of green plasma in response, which Eddie would promptly dodge, leaving him in its direct path. Instead, he caught a glimpse of her glaring at his cousin before his mother blocked the doorway.

"Now, sweetie," she said, "let's talk about how you've been living with my Drew for all this time without tying the knot. What's takin' ya so long, honey?"

Drakken flinched with embarrassment; fortunately, his mother closed the front door, sparing him from the rest of the conversation. All he could hear now was a muffled groan inside the cottage, coming from Shego. Although he knew his mother would be humiliating him, he couldn't help smirking a little at the thought of how Shego's attempt to evade Cousin Eddie had totally backfired. She probably wished she was still tagging along _now_

"Dude," said Eddie, "I didn't know you had a radio show. What's up with that?"

"I was lying, fool. Mother doesn't need to know about what I really do."

"Oooh, right. Yeah, like, I always tell her I'm still an engineer and stuff. Haha!"

"Somehow, I don't think she's fooled."

"I know, right? Seriously!"

Drakken made his way towards the shack with the hidden hovercraft.

"So where are we headed, cuz?"

"I have to meet someone for a little scheme I'm cooking up."

"Righteous!"

Even though Drakken had barely told him anything, it looked like that was more than enough to get his cousin in an enthusiastic mood. Eddie pumped his fist in the air as they approached the shack. Before they got there, however, Eddie stopped Drakken. "Hold on, cuz. I'm not feelin' the hovercraft today."

Drakken frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I think we need to take the hog!"

XX

Standing outside Frugal Lucre's home while they waited for someone to answer the doorball, Drakken and Motor Ed made a strange pair. One blue, one fake-tan. One dressed in an imposing uniform, the other in a soiled wife beater. Both of them did have mullets, though, so there was one thing in common, at least.

Drakken held a collection of papers close to himself, trying to shield them from the occasional raindrops that fell from a cloudy sky; he began to regret not bringing a suitcase with him, or at least a manila folder from one of his lair's many supply closets. They didn't have to wait long before someone answered the door, although Drakken was not expecting to see an older woman instead of the annoying younger man he had been expecting.

"Hello there," said the woman. "Can I help you?"

"We were hoping to speak to Frugal Lucre."

"Friends of his?"

"Sure," said Drakken. "Is he home?"

"I'm afraid not – he's working at Smarty Mart right now. But you can come in and wait for him if you like. His shift should be all done before long! I can make you two some Toaster Toasties while you wait!"

"Food?" asked Eddie. "Right on!"

The woman stepped aside and ushered the two of them into her home. Drakken suddenly realized the obvious – she had to be Lucre's mother. Frugal Lucre had certainly talked about the woman more than a few times during their stay in prison together, but it must have slipped Drakken's mind since then.

He and his cousin made their way into a cozy living room plastered in cream-colored wallpaper and lined with several display cabinets, inside of which a number of framed family photos stood between various knick knacks and figurines. At the urging of Lucre's mother, Drakken sat down on a couch decorated in beige upholstery while Eddie looked curiously around the room, unable to sit still. Lucre's mother disappeared around a corner. Drakken sat peacefully on the couch as he waited for refreshments. The visit was already turning out to be a nice break from being at the cottage with his own mother.

"Here we go!" said the woman as she returned a few moments later with a plate of Toaster Toasties.

Drakken had never tasted them before; his interest was piqued. Before he could pick one up, Motor Ed rushed over and grabbed one, stuffing it into his mouth before dancing about in agony. "Oh, _man_!" he said. "That stuff is on _fire_! Seriously!"

"They're right out of the toaster!" clucked Lucre's mother. "Be careful next time."

Drakken smirked at his cousin's foolishness as he took a toaster toasty for himself, blowing on it for a second before taking a big bite and burning his mouth. He felt a tear run from his eye as he waved a hand frantically in front of his mouth, trying to cool his tongue down.

"You boys are just like my Francis," laughed the woman.

"Oh yes," said Drakken. "His name is Francis Lurman, correct?"

"That's right. I'm his mother, Gail Lurman."

Drakken nodded politely after swallowing a bite of his Toaster Toastie. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

"'Sup, lady," said Motor Ed, spraying crumbs on the couch.

"So what brings the two of you to see my son?"

Drakken was about to explain his business when he realized it could be a bad idea. He didn't know whether or not Lucre's mother knew about his supervillain aspirations, whether they could trust her, and whether Frugal Lucre would be upset in the event that Drakken blew _his_ cover. Normally, Drakken wouldn't care about such a thing, but since he was in a similar situation with his mother, he felt a certain amount of sympathy towards Frugal Lucre and his secret supervillain situation. Not that Lucre was a supervillain on Drakken's level. Not by a long shot. And Lucre was still living with his mother well into his thirties, if Drakken was guessing his age correctly. And to imagine - he thought _he_ had it bad when his mother dropped by the lair unannounced.

"Let me guess," she said, "some kind of world domination scheme?"

Drakken gaped. "What? How did you-"

"I know my son has a little interest in that kind of thing, don't you worry."

Mrs. Lurman's keen powers of observation astonished Drakken. He remembered that he had referred to Francis by his supervillain name when he first asked for him at the door, which hadn't confused his mother. Perhaps the two of them shared a closer relationship than he shared with his own mother.

"Well, yes," he said. "We were hoping to work on a plan with him. Is that alright?"

"I suppose. I wish you boys would stay out of trouble, though. I had to bail him out of jail last time, and that wasn't cheap, let me tell you! But I know Francis feels bad about all the trouble he puts his poor mother through."

"I know what you mean," said Eddie. "Me and Drew here are cousins, you know. I just moved in with him and his mom after she posted my bail. She's not even my real mom, but I still feel bad about causing her trouble. But it's like I can't help it – seriously! I was born to rock and I just can't stop!"

Motor Ed stood up on the couch without warning, sticking his tongue out and making a wildly exaggerated air-guitar motion with both hands as he shook his mullet violently back and forth. He sat back down after a moment. Mrs. Lurman nodded patiently. "That's interesting, dear," she said.

"What do you think of your son's world domination interests?" asked Drakken.

Mrs. Lurman tilted her head in a nonchalant way as she nibbled on a Toaster Toastie.

"They are what they are. He's old enough to make his own decisions, and he's my son. I just want him to be happy, that's all. I wish he could be happy with his job at Smarty Mart, especially since he got in on that ex-inmate program they have over there, but I guess retail isn't his passion. Most of the Lurman family has been like that," mused the woman as she got up from the couch and looked over some of the family photos around the room.

_An interesting position to take_, thought Drakken. Frugal Lucre had to be causing his mother a lot of trouble if he was living in the same house with her while plotting his schemes – although Drakken didn't know for certain, he assumed the man had some kind of lair in the basement, as that seemed like the most natural place for one to be. And yet Gail Lurman seemed to understand her son's megalomaniacal desires. Maybe she even accepted them.

Drakken wondered what his own mother would think if he ever told her the truth about his supervillainy. Would she still see him as her little Drewbie? Of course, now that Drakken thought about it, maybe that would be a good way to change the way she treated her. He was a grown man, after all, and she did her best to make him feel like an infant any time she stopped by, no matter how short the visit. But he had to admit that it was deeper than all of that, more complicated. He worried about what his mother would think if she knew the truth. If she knew who he _truly_ was. If she knew just what he had done.

The sound of a car pulling up on the street outside reached Drakken's ears. Mrs. Lurman left a display cabinet for the window, peering through the drapes outside. "There he is," she told her visitors. "Told you he wouldn't be too long!"

A car door slammed, and Drakken wrung his hands together in maniacal delight. Even his cousin looked excited, despite the fact that as far as Drakken could remember, he hadn't really told Eddie anything specific about the plan. But it didn't take much to get his cousin excited. If Lucre agreed to Drakken's proposal and everything went well over the next few days, Dementor's silly vortex induction-related schemes would look like child's play in comparison.

XX

Shego sat on the largest boulder in a small collection of rocks that jutted out into the stream, one foot propped up beside her, the other resting on a smaller rock just barely above water. She watched as the stream gurgled past her, listened as birds chirped merrily in the trees. Her little rocky seat was shaded by an overhanging tree, but Shego could still see that the day was brightening up as the clouds began to disperse above her.

She had managed to escape the cottage and take a walk through the forest as a way to avoid Claudia Lipsky's incessant questioning about her interest in Drakken. To that woman, a simple 'no' apparently meant 'I have a hidden love for your son, but I need a little push, please give me a point-by-point list of all his good qualities.' It was enough to drive her up the wall. Amused by the thought, Shego wondered if she knew more about Drakken than his mother did, considering how long she had worked with Doctor D versus how much time he spent avoiding his mother.

Shego sighed. She had been having a lot of fun with Drakken's discomfort, but she had to admit that the Lipsky family reunion was starting to wear a little thin for her as well. Motor Ed was a pain, and Claudia was only hilarious when her attention was directed at her son. Even Dementor could get pretty pushy, although most of his attention also seemed glued to Drakken, whether it was genuine fatherly interest or supervillain rivalry.

What was more, Shego began to realize she was getting bored. The scenery surrounding the subterranean lair and cottage was beautiful, no doubt about it - but she was beginning to feel a little antsy. She didn't feel like shopping, and she had been thinking about how Drakken's visit to Frugal Lucre would pay off ever since he had left. The arrival of Drakken's mother and Dementor had interrupted their flow, but hopefully Doctor D's plan would get under way soon. She hadn't kicked any redheaded teen butt in a while, and she was looking forward to getting back in the game, even though she didn't have high hopes for Drakken's latest scheme.

But then, he was the one with the world domination kick. She just liked to be along for the ride.

Woodland scenery began to get old, and a chilly breeze wove its way through the trees and over the rocks where Shego was sitting. She looked up; the clouds were back. They seemed to be unable to make up their minds about whether they wanted to rain or not. Shego got up from her seat by the stream and made her way back to the cottage, which was not far away. Maybe she could sneak through the cottage and go down into the lair to play some cards with a few henchmen. Or just read a magazine. She made her way around to the back door, but no sooner had she opened it than Claudia Lipsky popped up out of nowhere. Shego swore involuntarily; Kim Possible was not the only little redhead that had a talent for appearing as if out of thin air and interrupting her plans.

"You're back!" said Claudia. "Come on in!"

"Uh, yeah. I was just going to go downstairs and do some work. Radio stuff."

"I was hoping you'd look at some more baby pictures with me!"

"Oh. Well, I guess I could spare a few minutes."

Shego had been expecting a repeat of Claudia's neverending attempt to hook her up with Drakken, but baby pictures were a little different. Shego was definitely open to seeing more of those. Maybe taking a few cell phone pictures of her own, too. How Drakken could get himself into so many embarrassing situations before he could even walk was beyond Shego's understanding.

"Come, sit down," said Claudia. "Keep an old lady company, will you? Look at these here!"

Shego sat down on the couch beside Drakken's mother and looked at the album. She noticed a man in several pictures, like last time she had looked at the albums, which she assumed was Drakken's real father. One of the pictures showed him in a police uniform; Shego was a little surprised at that one. She couldn't imagine Drakken having a police officer for a father. Or, then again, maybe it explained a lot. She had been a little hesitant to ask when Claudia Lipsky had first arrived at the cottage, since Drakken never really talked about his father, but she felt bolder now.

"Is that Drakken's dad?" she asked.

"His first father, yes."

"You guys divorced?"

Claudia paused for a moment, as if thinking about what to say, but did not take her gaze away from the photo album when she finally responded.

"He passed away."

"Ah," said Shego, a little awkwardly. "Sorry."

"Quite alright, honey. It was a long time ago."

Shego fell silent, wishing she hadn't asked. Maybe _that_ was why Drakken didn't talk about him much. Of course, it could be that he just didn't have much in common with his real father. She wondered when exactly he had passed away, but she didn't really want to press the subject. Even when it was just a barrel of laughs, with no deaths involved, Drakken's family situation was awkward enough.

"Here's Drewbie playing with his little toys," laughed Claudia as she flipped to another page. "He was always getting into such trouble! You should have read some of his report card comments. Just dreadful!"

Shego looked at a series of pictures which clearly showed a young Drakken, older than a toddler but not yet a teen, wielding what looked like a much more primitive version of one of his doomsday weapons, although it was smaller and more childlike in appearance. But even in the photo, Shego thought she could pick up a certain style to the device that screamed Doctor D. One photo showed him pointing the weapon – which was almost bigger than he was – towards a nearby wall. A subsequent photo showed him bowled over, the weapon flung backwards on the ground behind him. To the right of the photo, almost cut off by the edge, Shego could make out a glowing hole in the wall ringed by scattered ash on the carpet.

"He was always interested in the radio business," said Claudia.

Shego nodded as Claudia continued to flip through the photos, but the comment stuck in her mind. It was perplexing. Drakken's mother seemed to be oblivious, but even for her, it seemed over the top. What did an obviously dangerous laser weapon have to do with hosting a self-help radio show, or whatever it was Drakken used for a cover? Could Claudia really be _that_ dumb? As Shego wondered, she also began to wonder about Drakken's past. He never talked about it in great detail, and Claudia probably _did_ have some interesting stories to tell.

"So when did Drakken actually get into the, uh, radio business?"

Claudia put a finger to her lips as she counted back in her mind. "Let's see," she said. "I don't know exactly when, but it was a little while after he moved out of the house. He told me when he was visiting one day."

Shego raised an eyebrow. So Drakken had willingly visited his mother in the past at some point, even after moving out. That was hard to imagine. Maybe he didn't find his mother as intolerable as she had assumed.

"Wanna hear a little secret, sweetie?"

Shego nodded eagerly. There was not much she wanted more than secrets about Drakken, especially if they were juicy and embarrassing. This was exactly what made Claudia worth having around.

"I know Drew isn't a radio host."

Shego froze as Claudia closed the photo album. For a split second, she wondered if she had blown Doctor D's cover somehow, but she knew it was unlikely that she would do such a thing before Drakken did it himself. This was not quite the secret she had been expecting.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "You know that... uh..."

"Exactly. I know he's got a supervillain lair down there, and he's always trying to take over the world. My little Drewbie likes to think big, you know."

Shego stared at Claudia, astonished. She felt her appraisal of the woman already beginning to rise; maybe Claudia wasn't nearly as oblivious as she pretended to be. To be honest, it made more sense that Drakken's mother would be at least kind of aware of his pastime when she repeatedly discovered his secret lair locations and dropped by unannounced, poking and prodding at devices that clearly had nothing to do with the radio business.

"Wait a minute," asked Shego, "If you're so in the know about Doctor D's evil schemes, how come you opened that syntho-plasma canister we had on that train?"

Claudia Lipsky's face flushed with embarrassment. "Oh, that," she said. "I actually _did_ think it was a coffee thermos. I didn't say I understand every little thing about Drewbie's plans, honey. It can be confusing. And I have to admit, sometimes I like to have a little fun and tease my boy about his secret. He gets all flustered sometimes – it's so cute! Don't you think, Shego?"

She _did_ think it was sort of cute in its own way. Although Mrs. Lipsky's reasons for bothering her son were much different than her own. But she would never willing admit that there was something cute about the way Drakken got worked up when things didn't go his way. Not to Drakken, and certainly not to his mother. After all, Claudia had her own reasons for asking Shego if she thought anything about her little Drewbie was cute. Reasons that involved big three-tiered cakes and white dresses. She shuddered at the thought.

"But anyway," continued Claudia, "most of the time it's pretty obvious he's up to no good when he's running around with you and making his little plans. I'm no genius like my little boy, Shego, but I'm not _that_ stupid."

"So when did you find out?"

"Years ago," said Claudia. "Ever since I saw one of his first real lairs."

"But he thinks you have no idea?"

Claudia nodded.

"Why?"

She stopped nodding and shook her head instead. "It's complicated," she said after a long pause. "Drewbie doesn't want me to know what he does, and I don't want to upset my little boy. He has some insecurities, you know. Once he's ready to tell me about it, then he can tell me about it. You won't tell him I know, right? I feel like I can trust you, sweetie. You've been working with Drew for a long time, so you understand what a special boy he is."

Although 'special boy' was not the phrase Shego would have chosen, she _did_ in fact know what a special boy Drakken was. And as much as she enjoyed seeing her boss writhing in emotional torment, somehow she got the feeling that Claudia had let her in on something a little more sensitive than awkward situations with a new father-in-law. Claudia sat on the couch, hands clasped hopefully in her lap, as she waited for an answer.

Shego gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Just this once, she would play nice.

XX

"And that's when the world will be my oyster!" cried Drakken, raising his fist in the air. He wasn't sure if he was trying to imitate the act of clenching an oyster in his hand or just making an expression of power, but he always thought doing things like raising fists into the air had a certain dramatic flair. "I'll have free reign to do whatever I wish. Rob banks, take over the military apparatus, order people to quack like a duck – you name it!"

"You could save so much money!" said Frugal Lucre. "Hundred percent discounts!"

"You're absolutely right!"

The two of them giggled together as they pored over Drakken's plans, which were scattered over a desk in Lucre's basement. His mother had left them to their own devices, albeit with a few interruptions for refreshments that Drakken didn't mind at all, and his explanation of the plan was wrapping up. His cousin Eddie looked particularly bored as he stood beside the two of them.

"So, do you think you can handle it, Lucre?"

"Looks good to me! I'll just need a little time to recode everything."

"As you can see," said Drakken as he pointed helpfully to a few of the schematics, "I have completed most of the actual coding myself."

"Oh no, I can't use this. This stuff's horrible. It looks like it's just source code for a website. This isn't even a scripting language, it's just markup. And it's not standards compliant!"

"Man!" yelled Eddie. "You guys are total nerds! Seriously!"

"Eddie, you have a PhD in Mechanical Engineering."

"Yeah, but it's not like I'm all _nerdy_ about it, dude."

Drakken fought back the urge to scream and tried to ignore his cousin's commentary as he looked back to the code. "I looked up hypnosis and copied some code I thought was relevant from various sites. What's the problem?"

"I'm going to have to start from scratch," said Lucre.

Drakken felt his eye twitch with displeasure. For such an internet genius, Lucre didn't seem very adaptable. So maybe Drakken hadn't actually done a lot of planning yet, seeing as Dementor had been distracting him to the point of insanity over the last week, but there was nothing wrong with a little outsourcing. It was what he was doing right now with Lucre, after all. "Just get it done, alright? Once the program is up and running and we send it out over the internet, there will be no stopping me!"

"You mean no stopping _us_, right?"

"Of course, Lucre, of course. No stopping the two of us from total world domination!"

Eddie folded his beefy arms, looking a little hurt. "What about me?" he asked.

"Fine, fine! The three of us!"

"Three amigos!" cried Lucre.

"Awww yeah!"

"And make sure you have it done SOON!" cried Eddie as he slammed a fist down on the table, sending papers – and a few pieces of half-eaten Toaster Toasties – flying onto the floor. Frugal Lucre cringed, and Drakken looked at his cousin like he was going crazy.

"We don't need to threaten him," he said. "He already agreed to work with us."

"Oh, right. I forgot this wasn't like a good cop bad cop thing."

"Yes, well, I'll keep in touch, Lucre. Do try to finish this soon. I need to carry out this plan so I can take over the world and then kick my stepfather out of the house."

"Dude, I was thinking about that," said Eddie, "and it seems kinda weird. Even if you take over the world, isn't the whole reason you can't kick Dementor out because it would crush your mom? I mean, think about Aunt C's feelings, right? Seriously!"

"Yes, but once I take over the world, I..."

Drakken paused to try to collect his thoughts. He _knew_ it made sense somehow.

"And if you take over the world, won't Aunt C know you're like a supervillain and all that? That whole pretending to be a radio show host thing seems kinda weird, too. It's not like you can keep that secret forever, man."

"It's worked for years," said Drakken. "Look, it doesn't matter, I just need to show Dementor I'm a superior supervillain. The man thinks he can destroy my life and steamroll my plans with his own world domination scheme, but he'll be eating crow by the time I'm done!"

"Eating crow? That's gross, dude. Seriously."

"It's an expression, Eddie."

Frugal Lucre had been listening to the conversation, sitting back in his desk chair with an arm resting comfortably on the wooden table. He smiled as he listened to Drakken's complaints. "Family trouble, huh?"

"Yes, you could say that."

"Lying to your mom – that's not a healthy parental relationship, you know."

"Speak for youself, Lucre. You're a grown man and you're still living with your mother."

"Yeah, what a loser!" laughed Motor Ed.

"I'll have you know that I'm quite happy living with my mother, even if she interrupts me a little too much when I'm working on my latest evil scheme. It sounds like _you're_ the one who has the problem, Drakken."

While his cousin had been quick to join in Drakken's insult, Eddie's laughter stopped abruptly as he considered Frugal Lucre's comment. "Dude," he said as he turned to his cousin, "the loser's kinda got you there."

"_Nnngh! _Whatever! Just have have the program done soon. I'll call you and check up on things tomorrow."

"You got it, buddy!"

Drakken and his cousin left the basement, saying goodbye to Frugal Lucre's mother and thanking her for the toasted refreshments before they left the house. Drakken was looking forward to the ride back to the cottage. Yesterday, Motor Ed had paid a visit to a impounded vehicle lot and stolen a motorcycle, giving it a few personalized tweaks, and he had convinced Drakken that they should use it to visit Lucre. Drakken had to admit there was something about the way the wind blew against his arms as he clung to his cousin from the back of the motorcycle. The way it fluttered the end of his mullet, poking out from beneath his helmet, was positively invigorating.

Eddie passed Drakken his helmet as the two of them got on their ride. He was feeling upbeat now that his plan was underway, even if something about Frugal Lucre and Mrs. Lurman rubbed him the wrong way. If Lucre got along with his mother, that was great, but it didn't mean _everyone_ had to feel the same way about theirs. Their situations were completely different. Right before Eddie put on his helmet, he looked back at his cousin.

"So what happens next, Drew? I mean, after that internet hypnotizing virus thing is ready to rock?"

Drakken cackled in anticipation as he flipped his helmet's visor down.

"Next? The world will be ours!"


	9. Drew Goes to College

**Drew Goes to College**

XX

This was it: the Middleton Institute of Science and Technology. Drew Lipsky was standing at the edge of a precipice. Behind him stretched his childhood, years of dealing with foolish classmates and people who didn't appreciate his true talents. Ahead of him lay the sun-drenched valleys of adulthood, filled with glittering promises of recognition, great achievements, and - of course – ladies.

Drew knew he should be feeling excited, but as the car came to a stop in a large parking lot, he looked out at the campus buildings and felt a wave of apprehension. He told himself it was just a case of nerves that came with such a major change in his life. He'd get over it as soon as he got settled down. Untold possibilities were ahead of him, ripe for the plucking.

"Here we are, Drewbie! Isn't it exciting?"

Drew mustered up a smile for his mother as she turned back from the front passenger seat. His father parked the car in the crowded lot and got out of the door without a word. He had been acting a little sullen during the trip to campus. Drew had his guesses as to why his father seemed like he was in a bad mood. Not that Ken Lipsky was ever in much of a good mood, necessarily.

"Come on, Drew, Claudia," his father said as he popped open the trunk of the car. "Help me out here."

The three of them gathered around and picked out what they could in order to drag it to the nearby dormitory where Drew would be living - perhaps for the next semester, or perhaps for the rest of his college career. Drew helped his father edge a mini-fridge out of the trunk and onto a dolly. He took the dolly and began to wheel it, his father grabbing a piece of furniture and his mother grabbing a large cardboard box filled with odds and ends. The three of them crossed the lot on their way to the dorm. Drew looked around at the other incoming freshmen who streamed back and forth across the parking lot, carrying their own dorm supplies. To him, they looked like ants milling around, bringing morsels of food back and forth from their colony.

"So sweetie, are you looking forward to college?"

"I suppose so, mother."

His father grunted from behind the desk he was awkwardly carrying. "I just hope you do better in college than you did in high school," he said. "You were lucky to get in, with your record. Our money is on the line here, so I'd better not hear about any troublemaking and fooling around."

"Don't be so negative, Kenny!" said Claudia. "It's just like I told you – even if they turned down Drewbie at first, they let him in as soon as they saw how smart he was first-hand. You're always expecting the worst, but what did I tell you would happen when we drove Drewbie down here earlier to give the dean a demonstration of one of his little toys?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Ken.

"They just loved it, didn't they! You have to put more faith in our little boy."

Drew appreciated his mother defending him, although he felt a little embarrassed as several girls passed by and overheard part of the conversation. They seemed to be heading to the same dorm building he was; perhaps they'd be rooming with him. He knew it was a coed dorm. College ladies, he assumed, would probably appreciate his undeniable genius and charm more than the philistines who attended Middleton High School with him.

A stream of new and returning MIST students, along with their parents, were clogging the main doors of the dorm building where Drew would be moving in. He and his parents waited for the crowd to die down a little, and then went through the lobby, which had several welcoming tables set up which Drew and his father both preferred to ignore. But, unfortunately, Drew _did_ need his room key.

"Welcome to the Middleton Institute of Science and Technology!" spoke a chirpy student at table with the keys. "What's your name?"

"Drew Lipsky."

"Here's your key," said the girl after fishing through some boxes. "Need any help getting oriented?"

"No, I do _not_."

The girl shrugged at Drew's snippy tone and turned to help the next person as he left.

The elevator doors across the lobby had an 'out of order' sign taped across their front; Drew frowned as his family turned to take the stairs instead. Not a good time for the elevators not to work. He already anticipated being exhausted by the time he dragged the mini-fridge up the stairs on its dolly. The building was seven floors, and his dorm was on the third, but it was still a ridiculous distance. After what seemed like an endless trek, they made it to their floor and down the hallway until they reached his room. Drew was about to open the door when he noticed it was already ajar. He pushed it open and saw that his roommate was already inside.

"Oh, hey there," said the boy. "Drew Lipsky, am I right?"

"Yes, that's correct. What was your name again?"

"James Possible. Nice to meet you!"

Drew tried to ignore his roommate's extended hand, as both of his were occupied in trying to hold the mini-fridge, which was on the verge of falling off the dolly thanks to his stair-weakened muscles. He wheeled the fridge into the open space that his roommate had been kind enough to leave for it as his parents trooped in behind him. Ken Lipsky barely managed to fit the desk through the door, but it finally got through after some dangerous maneuvering.

"So you're my son's little roommate," said Claudia. "Oh, look at that cute little suit you have on! Drewbie, why can't you wear something like that more often?"

Drew cast a critical eye over his roommate's suit. "It looks lame, mother."

"That's not a nice way to talk to your new roommate!"

"Sorry."

His mother went back to looking over his roommate approvingly. "Where are your parents, honey?".

"They're out getting some more stuff from the car."

Drew had finished shifting the mini-fridge into place, and he sat down on the bottom bunk of the bunk bed that James and his parents had set up already, taking a moment to catch his breath. His father, who had finished putting the desk in place, motioned for Drew to follow him. "Come on," he said. "More in the car."

"Can't we take a break?"

"I'll help out," said James. "I think we're just about finished, anyway."

Ken nodded as James followed him out, leaving Drew with his mother. Claudia walked around the dorm, humming a cheery tune and inspecting every corner; as Drew watched, she seemed to have pulled a feather duster out of nowhere and was sweeping down any surfaces she could find. He got up from the bed after regaining his breath and looked out the window, over an open field between several dorm buildings. James had already put his own desk in front of the window; Drew thought that was a little rude. They could have flipped a coin for the view, at least. But the newness of the dorm, the uncertainty of his situation, was outweighing anything else in his mind.

_ This is your new home_, he told himself.

It was a little cramped.

"You know, mother," he said as he turned back from the window, "I get the feeling my father isn't particularly enthused about my being here."

"That's not true, Drewbie. He was the one who said you should be in a dormitory, even though I thought you'd be much better off staying home with mommy. He said you needed to gain some independence."

"Hmm."

Drew wasn't sure why he was bringing up the subject with his mother. Maybe he was feeling upset that his father was not showing a lot of enthusiasm towards his college aspirations. On the one hand, both of his parents said that going to MIST would be a good move, putting his natural talents to use while pursuing a career path instead of using them for wanton destruction. Drew had been willing to go along with that, but even though his father supported him going to college, he never _really_ supported him.

He couldn't put his finger on it. His father did not seem happy with law enforcement; although he remembered the old man trying to get him interested in the profession years ago, he had stopped bringing it up at some point. Maybe his father was a little jealous of Drew's abilities. Or maybe he didn't believe Drew could put his talents to good use. Whatever it was, at least his _mother_ seemed to believe in him.

"You know I used to be interested in science and technology and all those things when I was a little girl," said Claudia. "I played with those chemistry sets all the time!"

"I remember you telling me that. Why didn't you go to college, then?"

"Your father and I were saving up money when we got married, but then we had you."

Claudia went back to dusting the room as Drew was left to ponder what she had said. He wondered if he was to blame for his mother giving up on her dreams. Before he could ask anything else, however, his mother laughed, apparently finding his worried expression amusing.

"It's isn't like that, sweetie. Your father and I thought it was best I stay at home and raise you. A boy needs his mother around, you know. And I was happy to lead my little Drewbie along until he grew up – after all, look where he is now!"

Drew nodded as he set up some of his knick knacks and personal belongings around his half of the room. He couldn't put his clothes in the closet dresser yet, as his father was probably coming back with those momentarily. As he pondered his mother's story, he wondered if she was really being truthful. Did she want to be a stay-at-home mother, or had his father convinced her to give up her interests in favor of the domestic life?

He didn't think there was anything wrong with that if it was her choice, but Ken Lipsky could be a domineering figure. There were many worse fathers, as far as fathers went, but Ken wanted things to be done a certain way. Drew had grown up in a strict household, after all. There were rules for everything - even if Ken wasn't around enough to enforce them. He could imagine a situation where his mother had chosen not to go to college because of what her husband wanted.

"Gimme a hand here, son."

Drew turned to see his father balancing a box of his belongings in each hand. He took one of the boxes and began to remove things: his clothes, a few bathroom supplies, and a couple of highly experimental laser generators he had been working on over the summer. His father began to empty the other box as his roommate James came in with the rest of the stuff from the car.

Before long, everything was out. Beside the desk and the refrigerator, the university had provided the dresser drawer in the closet and the bunk bed, so there wasn't really much they had needed to bring along. Drew finished putting away his clothing and stood back, clapping his hands together and giving a little whistle in appreciation of a job well done. Maybe James and his father had helped him a little bit, but that was some heavy lifting he had been doing!

"I guess that's it," said Ken. "Everything's out."

"Such a small room," clucked Claudia as she looked it over. "I don't know how you'll get used to this after living in such a nice room at home, Drewbie!"

"I'm sure I'll manage, mother."

"Do we need to buy you your textbooks?"

"We gave him his money," said Ken.

"Do you know where the bookstore is, honey?"

"I can help him with that," said James. "I bought mine yesterday."

The four of them stood awkwardly in the room for a moment longer, until Ken nudged his wife, as if trying to hint to her that their work was finished and there was no point in hanging around. Claudia looked at her husband for a moment before turning back to Drew and embracing him in a spine-crushing hug. Drew felt the air leave his lungs in a loud wheeze as his mother's arms wrapped around his stomach.

"My little Drewbie!" she said. "I'm gonna miss you so much, sweetie! Make sure you study hard and don't go to those frat parties I've heard about, okay? They're very dangerous!"

"Yes, mother."

"Call us as much as possible, Drewbie."

"Yes, mother."

Drew could barely get the words out, as his mother was still forcing the air out of his lungs with her hug. After what seemed like forever, she finally released him from her grip. Drew took a deep breath. His father walked stiffly up to him. After a moment of awkward silence, Ken reached out a hand. Drew took it with his own and gave it a shake.

"Don't mess up," his father said.

His parents said goodbye to James, took one last look around the dorm room, and with that, they left. Drew was left standing along in the room with his new roommate. He gave James an awkward smile, not knowing quite how to break the ice. James stared blankly for a moment before reaching out to grab one of the laser weapons Drew had brought along – Drew promptly smacked the hand away. "Mine!" he exclaimed.

"Sorry. I just wanted to see what it was."

"It's a highly experimental laser projection system. Very dangerous!"

"Isn't that against some kind of college regulation?"

"Maybe so," said Drew. "I really have no idea."

He looked suspiciously at his roommate, wondering if the boy was going to rat him out. After a moment, however, James' lips curled up into a smile. Drew couldn't help smiling back, this time more confidently.

What the future held, he did not know. Whether his roommate would be a friend or an enemy, only time would tell – but judging by the boy's ability to recognize a good laser-generating doohickey when he saw one, Drew thought there was some promise there. His heart filled with both apprehension and excitement, whirling and mixing like a multi-flavored smoothie of confusing emotions. _ This was it_, he thought. It was time to strike out into a new frontier. The beginning of Drew Lipsky's ascent to greatness!

XX

"Room 235. This is it!"

Drew almost ran into his roommate as James stopped in front of the door in question and glanced at his class schedule. James was correct. Engineering 101, their first class of college. The two of them had been fortunate enough to share a number of classes together, and while Drew would never admit to being nervous about getting around campus and fitting into the college scene, it was good that he'd have someone he knew tagging along for much of it. What was more, James seemed to be fairly likable, although Drew thought he was a little straight-laced. But he would do alright as a fellow college comrade, watching Drew's back as he climbed his way up the ranks and into success beyond his wildest dreams.

The two of them entered the classroom and chose a couple of empty seats. If Drew had been leading the way, he would preferred seats near the front where he could easily correct the professor and offer his great knowledge; unfortunately, his roommate was in the lead, and he chose a couple of empty seats near the back. Two other students beside them turned to greet them.

"Hey, guys," said the first one. "Bob Chen, nice to meet you."

"I am Ramesh," said the second. "It is a pleasure!"

"What's your last name?" asked James.

"You would not be able to pronounce my full name. Just call me Ramesh."

James was about to introduce himself to the two of them when Drew interjected, throwing his hand out faster than James could extend his own and shaking the hand of both their fellow students. "Drew Lipsky," he said. "And this is my roommate, James Possible. It's a good thing you two introduced yourselves to me, because I'll most likely be the top student here. Stick with me and you'll make it through with flying colors!"

Bob and Ramesh exchanged glances, repressing snorts of laughter, and even James cracked a smile at the comment. Drew was a little surprised – even, for a moment, a little hurt – but he realized maybe he was jumping the gun. To him, his claim was undeniable, but it was true that these two new fellow freshmen had no idea who he was. Neither did James, for that matter, since they had only spent a couple of days together before classes started. Drew would need to back his words up with _actions_. He would need to prove himself. Fortunately, their teacher entered the classroom at just that moment. Drew would soon get his opportunity.

"Everyone be quiet," said the teacher, a big burly woman wearing a black shirt decorated by a skull and crossbones. "My name is Miss Anne Thrope, and this is Engineering 101."

She turned the wrote her name on the blackboard, along with the name of the class.

"Anybody who doesn't belong here, get out! Anybody who wants to go around the room and do introductions, maybe a little description of your interests and what you hope to get from this class, get out! We're here to learn engineering. We're not here to sing Kumbaya and jaw off."

Drew was a little disappointed. Going around the room and doing introductions _did_ sound like it would have been kind of fun. He could already tell this teacher might be trouble.

"Open the book to page one. We start now."

Miss Thrope opened her book and slammed the cover down on the teacher's table while her students followed suit, getting the impression that it was probably best to follow her directions quickly. Drew, however, had a few things to say. He fished a class syllabus out of his backpack, which he had photocopied the day before and gone over in great detail. "Excuse me," he said, "Miss Thrope? I was hoping to ask about a few of the points I saw on the class syllabus."

Miss Thrope looked up to find the source of the interruption. Her eyes trained themselves on Drew Lipsky, who was waving the syllabus above his head. Her nostrils flared like a bull which had just spotted a foolish matador waving a very large, very red piece of fluttering cloth. Drew took her silence as tacit assent that he could voice his concerns.

"I just had some concerns about the way you are structuring the class," he said got up from his desk and approached Miss Thrope, syllabus in hand. "I see here that we're going over a lot of theory, a lot of broad concepts, but don't you think it would be better to take a practical approach? There's no point in catering to those who can't keep up on their own when we should be gearing our teaching towards the cream of the crop, no?"

Miss Thrope stared. Drew coughed nervously before he continued, feeling his resolve weakening a little bit.

"You see, I'm sure those of us who are truly interested in learning have no time for theory. What we want is practice! We should be _building_ things, putting some of these processes to work. I don't even see any laboratory equipment in this classroom. I'd be quite willing to help you out and show the class how to build things which I'm sure we'd all like to learn how to build. Why, just last month I managed to build a prototype Phase Modifying-"

"QUIET!"

Drew flinched as the sheer power of Miss Thrope's voice blew over him like a wave. She took a step closer, and he wondered if the thunderclap caused by her foot hitting the floor was just in his imagination or not.

"What makes YOU think you can help ME teach my own class?"

"Ah, well, you see, what I meant was - um, I think we've gotten off on the wrong-"

"This class is for beginning engineering students. We will have some hands-on learning, but theory is important to build a solid foundation for any academic career. I don't know what kind of toys you were playing with when you were living with mommy and daddy, but in _my_ class, you'll start with the basics, and you'll learn some humility!"

Drew raised a hand to interject, but Miss Thrope raised her own hand. Drew shrank in terror for a moment, thinking she was about to backhand him across the face, but instead she pointed to Drew's empty desk. He sensed that Miss Thrope was not open to his attempts at rationality. Before any more embarrassment could occur, Drew slunk back to his desk, hearing several scattered titters and snorts of laughter coming up from the students around him.

That had _not_ gone how he expected. If she had just given him some time to go into a little more detail...

"Just take it easy, Drew," said James as he returned to his desk. "Better to go with the flow for now, right?

Drew snorted at his roommate's suggestion. Go with the flow, indeed. From what he had seen of the class syllabus, the flow was stagnant, leading them all into a big stinky pool of mediocrity. But Miss Thrope was unwilling to recognize his genius or listen to his sage advice. James wasn't making fun of him, at least, but Bob and Ramesh seemed to have found the debacle with Miss Thrope amusing, judging by the barely-concealed mirthful glances they were shooting at him before returning their attention to their books.

His eyes were fixed on his own book as Miss Thrope began to drone on about the long history of engineering, going back to the pyramids of Ancient Egypt and the ziggurats of Babylon. It was a waste of time, he thought. Why dwell on the past when one could look to the future? That was why he was in college in the first place, after all. To break from the past. To start a new beginning.

He flipped through a few more pages, looking at where they'd be going, and drummed his fingers impatiently on his desk as he went over things he already knew. This was supposed to be a new beginning, a break from high school and all those simpletons who disrespected his genius – but if he had to march to the beat of Miss Thrope's drum, Drew wondered just where this new beginning would end up.

XX

* * *

_**Notes** - If any of you are reading _A Pinky Joe Curly Tale_, this chapter has some connections to it - although in that story, it's sort of implied that they're meeting Miss Thrope for the first time in grad school, so it's not like the two stories are sharing the same universe. There will be some more related (and overlapping) scenes in future chapters. And if you're not reading the story, check it out if you want! :-p_

_Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter, reviews are welcome._


	10. Half Baked

**Half Baked**

XX

Kim slammed her locker door shut and leaned against the wall, waiting for her boyfriend to join her so they could walk to class together. She did not have to wait long – Ron showed up with Rufus perched on his shoulder, one hand around the strap of his backpack, the other holding an apple. Rufus stared hungrily at the apple while Ron kept it at arm's length, occasionally giving his hairless friend a glance of admonishment if he got too feisty.

"What's up with the apple, Ron?"

"I thought maybe I could give it to Mr. B and see if he goes easy on me for missing the homework yesterday."

"You know that's not going to work. Your best bet would probably be turning it in, like, today?"

"Yeah, 'cept I didn't do it last night. Too busy playing _Zombie Mayhem_ with Felix."

Kim gave Ron a pat on the back. "And now we get to the _real_ problem."

The two of them left the row of lockers and made their way down the hall to their shared math class. Math definitely wasn't Kim's favorite subject, but it wasn't like it gave her a lot of trouble, and having a teacher like Mrs. Stanley helped when half of her other classes were inevitably taught by Mr. Barkin, regardless of whether he was actually supposed to be teaching them. Now that she thought about, it seemed strange that Ron was carrying an apple with him to math. Her heart sunk as she began to understand the implication.

"Wait, is Barkin subbing math today?"

"Yup."

Kim groaned. Although she knew it was probably worse news for Ron than it was for her. But Barkin's monotonous lecturing style was particularly excruciating when it came to rattling off numbers and equations. Just when the unpleasant feeling of Ron's news had passed, it returned as Kim glanced to the side and saw Bonnie Rockwaller passing them.

"Ewww," said Bonnie. "Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable are holding hands. PDA! I think I'm gonna hurl."

"You mean the way you hurled last week after doing too many flips at cheer practice, Bonnie?"

"No fair, K. I was still recovering from getting my wisdom teeth taken out!"

"Suuure."

Bonnie flippantly flipped a hand through her hair, dismissing Kim and Ron as she picked up her speed down the hall. Kim didn't know why she was bothering to try to outdistance them, as they were all going to the same math class. She _did_, however, get a certain amount of satisfaction knowing that the hair-flip and sped up walk was about as close as Bonnie ever got to admitting she had just been put in her place.

"Hey, KP."

"Yes, Ron?"

"You know, since we're already doing PDA, I was just thinking..."

Kim grinned and gave her boyfriend a kiss on the cheek. Maybe it was her imagination, but he seemed to be getting a little bolder when it came to the romance. When they first started dating, Kim sometimes felt like he was a deer caught in her headlights – which was sort of flattering in its own way, but also a little exasperating sometimes. She was glad to see that he was becoming more comfortable with the whole dating thing; just as long as Mr. Barkin didn't catch the two of them flagrantly violating the school's PDA rules, anyway.

"Hey Mr. Barkin!" said Ron as he entered the classroom. Mr. Barkin looked at him suspiciously from his seat behind the desk at the front of the room. Ron approached the desk and set the apple down as Rufus looked at it longingly. Mr. Barkin, however, looked at it like it was some kind of shiny red bomb.

"What is this, Stoppable?"

"It's an apple! Since you're such a good teacher."

"Stoppable, did you forget to do your late work again?"

Ron looked to Kim for support, but she didn't know what to tell him, shrugging her shoulders haplessly instead. Mr. Barkin had her boyfriend down to a tee.

"Yes sir, but the apple is just an expression of my-"

"SIT DOWN!"

"Yes, sir."

Kim gave Ron a sympathetic pat on the back as the two of them found a couple of empty seats near the front of the classroom. The front was always empty, as no one liked to be too close to Mr. Barkin's outbursts or be singled out for answering questions. Although that happened just as often to people in the back, which meant the middle of any Barkin-taught classroom was usually bustling with people rushing for choice spots when the class started.

"Alright, people," said Barkin. "LISTEN UP! As I am sure you have noticed, Mrs. Stanley is not here today, due to an unfortunate mishap trying to fix the library copy machine with-" Mr. Barkin stopped abruptly as a series of beeps interrupted him. The rest of the class turned to the source of the sound, which, over time, had become very familiar to most of them.

"Um, sorry Mr. Barkin - mind if I take this?"

Mr. Barkin stared at Kim Possible for a moment before finally nodding curtly, unable to hide his irritation. Kim excused herself from the classroom and went out into the hallway with a sheepish grin. Once outside, she let Wade through. "What's the sitch?" she asked.

"We have a little problem," said Wade. "You and Ron are going to have to skip a few classes."

"I don't think Ron's gonna like that. He's already in hot water with Mr. Barkin today."

"Doesn't that mean he'd _love_ skipping?"

"Hmm. Good point. So what's going on, something new with Dementor?"

"Nope. Still no news on helmet head. This is something else. Hold on, I'm playing a video that just went out on television a few minutes ago."

Kim waited until Wade's face was replaced by a video feed, which looked like it was being recorded by someone with a hand-held video camera in their basement. She rolled her eyes in exasperation as she saw the villain she and Ron would be dealing with this time. Definitely not a supervillain – just a regular one. The man ranted into the camera, occasionally stopping to make sure his fake mustache wasn't about to fall off.

How did Frugal Lucre get out of prison already? Sometimes Kim had to wonder if there was even any point in catching them. She sighed and opened the classroom door as the video continued to play, giving Mr. Barkin an apologetic glance as she interrupted his ongoing lesson.

"Hey Ron - we gotta go."

"You two should just leave when you get those calls," said Mr. Barkin. "You have to leave class every time your little tech friend calls the two of you, anyway."

"You're right," said Kim, flashing him a conciliatory smile. "Sorry."

"Sorry Mr. B!" said Ron as he grabbed his backpack and left his desk. "Enjoy that apple!"

"You still need to do your homework, Stoppable. Not that you'll get a grade on it when it's two days late."

"Why do I have to do it, then?"

"Because I SAID SO!"

Ron grumbled and left the classroom as Kim held the door open for him.

"Hey Possible," said their teacher before she went back into the hallway.

"Yes, Mr. Barkin?"

"Good luck."

Kim shut the door, heading for the school's main entrance with Ron. She knew Wade probably had a ride headed their way already.

Although skipping class always riled Mr. Barkin up, Kim had a sort of agreement with him about doing it for mission-related reasons. He seemed sympathetic when it came to her missions – based on what Ron had told her about certain comments Mr. Barkin had told _him_, maybe the man had done some similar things in his own past. Whatever the reason for the school's lenience, she was just glad that all the absences they racked up on their missions didn't make her repeat any grades.

XX

Something awful wafted through the air. Drakken had to keep himself from retching as the smell forced itself up his nostrils. He wasn't even anywhere _near_ the kitchen, but judging by the racket coming from that direction, the kitchen was exactly where the smell had originated. Steeling up his nerves and breathing as lightly as he could, he approached the room to see what was going on. His mother and Dementor, along with several henchmen, were gathered inside as they cooked something.

"Please tell me that isn't breakfast," said Drakken.

"Finally, you are up!" cried Dementor, glancing back at the new arrival. "Yes, ve are making de breakfast. You can help!"

The man motioned for Drakken to join them, although they were all crowded around the kitchen counter top with no room for another person. Still standing in the hallway, he glanced through the living room entrance on the right and saw Shego sitting on the couch. It looked like she was wearing ear buds to listen to music and drown out the clamor coming from behind her. He turned reluctantly back to look into the kitchen. Dementor wore a chef's apron which read 'kiss the cook', as well as several oval lipstick marks on his cheeks, which Drakken could only assume had come from his mother's mouth. He desperately wished there was some other explanation for the sight, but no – neck-smacking was the obvious answer. The entire scene was making him queasy.

"You know what, Dementor? I think I'll just hang out in the living room with Shego for a-"

"NEIN! You vill come in and learn my family's strudel recipe! It is de FAMILY BONDING!"

"Yes, Drewbie, listen to your father!"

Drakken groaned. He knew they'd bother him incessantly if he did anything else, and he _did_ want something to eat. Maybe the strudel didn't taste as bad as it smelled. He moved into the kitchen apprehensively, one step at a time, as the crowd gathered around the counter top parted to make room for him. He recognized the three henchmen around his mother and stepfather: his own henchman, Bob, was once again hanging out with two of Dementor's henchmen, Myron and Ted. He could have _sworn_ he had told Bob to stop fraternizing with the enemy just the other day!

"And then, once we haf prepared ze apple and spice filling along with ze dough, we simply combine the two together, as if you vere surrounding a volatile power core with protective metal shielding! OBSERVE!"

"That's an interesting analogy, sweetie," said Claudia.

"Ah, yes. It is from ze radio business. Drakken vill understand."

Drakken did observe the process. He couldn't figure out where the bad smell was coming from; they didn't even seem to be cooking anything yet, and all he could see on the counter was dough and some kind of spiced apple filling. He leaned in a little closer to the henchmen and took a sniff, wondering if they were slacking in their personal hygiene, but it wasn't them. It was definitely coming from the strudel. Bob gave his boss a nervous look after being sniffed, but turned back to the cooking demonstration instead of saying anything.

"Don't you have work?" he asked his stepfather.

"Yes, a little later. But right now it is time for de strudel making. Now, as I vas saying - once de combining is finished, ve simply pop it into de oven like so, and vait about thirty or forty-five minutes until cooking has been completed. Den, ve enjoy our meal."

"That's not quite how Olga makes the strudel," said Myron. "I thought you said this was a family recipe, boss?"

"It IS a family recipe, Myron. Mine sister chose to betray ze family by starting a commercial strudel-works und choosing a bland, uninteresting recipe zat is an embarrassment to ze Demens name!"

"I don't think that's a nice thing to say about my wife," complained Myron.

"Do not question me, Myron! Does your wife employ you anymore?"

Myron scratched his goatee as he considered the question.

"Uh – no?"

"Zat is correct. Und _who_ do you work for now?"

"Oooh, I get it. You!"

"CORRECT. So NO MORE of de questioning, PLEASE!"

Myron retreated back to his position between Bob and Ted as Dementor finished brushing melted butter on the unbaked strudel and picked up the tray with a pair of pastel pink oven mittens, getting ready to slip it into the oven. Drakken didn't recognize the oven mitts. Probably something his mother had bought recently. He was about to extricate himself from the uncomfortable kitchen situation when his cousin bounded through the door out of nowhere, almost knocking him over.

"Hey, what's that smell?" asked Motor Ed. "It totally woke me up, seriously!"

"You und Drakken," chided Dementor, "you are both quite de late sleepers, no?"

"Whatever, dude. You got food down here?"

"I am making strudel. You already missed ze demonstration. But do not worry – with mine strudel, there is always room for de seconds! Next time, de whole family can give it a try!"

"Awesome, dude! It's, like, bonding!"

"Yes! Exactly! Dat is EXACTLY what I was intending!"

Drakken got the feeling that it was high time to escape. Not only did he want to keep the family bonding to a minimum, but he was just thinking about how Frugal Lucre was doing on the hypnosis supervirus. He and Motor Ed had visited the irritating man the other day, and seeing as it was now Friday morning, Drakken felt like the man had been given more than enough time to hammer something out. He knew it was probably best to give Frugal a little time to concentrate, but he couldn't resist making a call and seeing what kind of progress he had made.

"Vere are you going?" asked Dementor as Drakken edged out of the room.

"You said it would be ready in about forty five minutes, correct?"

"Yes. I did say that."

"Be back in a while!"

Drakken made a break for it before anyone could object. He reached the elevator to go down to the lair, where hopefully he might get a little more privacy in order to call Frugal and talk about the plan some more. Just before the elevator doors closed, Shego appeared from down the hall and leaped through the narrowing crack into the elevator with him, almost getting pinned between the doors in the process.

"Hey Doctor D!" she said, getting up off the floor. "Going down?"

"Yes. Why the hurry?"

Shego took off her ear buds and tucked them into her pocket. "I noticed you walking down the hall behind me and figured it'd be a good idea to make a break for it before those strudels were ready. Is it just me, or did they smell totally awful?"

"_Thank_ you!" cried Drakken. "I thought I was losing my mind!"

The elevator reached the command center, and Drakken leaped out to the nearest terminal before the doors had even finished opening, unable to contain his excitement. If Frugal Lucre was a fast worker, perhaps the work was already done, and he could move onto phase two of Operation Britina Summer Bikini Fun Time Supervirus! Or whatever his plan was called. Drakken sometimes had trouble remembering the name, but it wasn't about the details, anyway. It was the overall theme of his scheme that the name was supposed to capture.

"Hello?" he asked as the ringing stopped. He tried to bring up a viewing screen but realized - with just a hint of disappointment - that he was calling Frugal Lucre's home phone number. Now that Drakken thought about it, it was unlikely the half-rate supervillain even had the capability for video conferencing in his basement lair.

"Yes, hello? Who is this?"

"This is Doctor Drakken. May I speak to Frugal Lucre?"

There was no response, but Drakken could hear the vague sound of Lucre's mother calling for her son. He was probably working in the basement at that very moment. Her voice returned before long.

"Um, he's a bit busy right now. Can I take a message?"

"_Nnngh_. Just tell him to call me back when-"

There was a clicking sound as the other end of the line seemed to cut off. Drakken hoped Lucre's mother hadn't hung up on him, as that would have been very rude. He stood up with a sigh and leaned against the terminal, a little crushed that he hadn't been able to get an update on the status of his plan yet. Shego gave him an amused look.

"Can't wait until you can show up Dementor, huh?"

"That's not it at all, Shego."

Judging by his right hand woman's skeptical look, she wasn't convinced. Drakken had to admit he wasn't even doing a good job of convincing himself. He longed for the days when Dementor was still an enemy. Not that he wasn't still an enemy, Drakken reminded himself quickly. He just longed for the days when taking over the world had been a simple pleasure. Just something he pursued as a carefree but time-consuming hobby, for the sake of ultimate power and complete domination over all other human beings.

But then again, maybe it had never been quite that simple.

XX

"Honey, there's a call for you!"

Francis Lurman looked up from his desktop computer at the sound of his mother's voice. He was a little annoyed at being interrupted just when his plan was finally underway, but at least most of his work was already done. All he had to do now was watch his online account fill with 'donations' from terrified world citizens.

"Who is it, Ma?"

"I think it's that blue-skinned man you were talking to the other day."

"Oh. Drakken. Tell him to leave a message, I'm busy!"

Francis had no interest in talking to Drakken, especially since he had gone ahead and stolen Drakken's plan from him after making the hypnosis virus overnight. It was a good plan, and since Drakken had a lot of the concepts behind the way the hypnosis worked ready already, all Lucre needed to do was craft a delivery mechanism. Drakken was foolish to give away his idea so easily, thought Francis. And if the man couldn't do it himself with all his money and resources, then he would reap the rewards instead – with money to spare!

He returned his attention to the desktop computer where his online cash account was opened up in a window. Although Francis had released his supervillain message over the airwaves about half an hour ago, the cash did not seem to be coming in very fast. Threatening the world with a hypnotizing superviruses unless they paid him protection money seemed like a foolproof scheme – he had even upped his demand to two bucks a person instead of just one, since Kim Possible and her sidekick had made noises about a dollar per person being too low last time. And yet people didn't seem to be paying up. He could understand them wanting to save money in this economy, but at the cost of being hypnotized? What were they thinking? Making two dollars back was easier than trying to break free from the mental stranglehold of a tyrannical hypno-master who controlled your every impulse.

Francis was about to shout up to his mother and make sure she wasn't still talking to Drakken when the power in the basement went out. "Aagh!" he yelled, throwing his hands up into the air as his computer screen went black. What a time to lose power! At least his supervirus was already complete and ready to go if people didn't pay up. As soon as his power came back on, he'd be back in action.

Just before he went upstairs to look for the circuit breakers, he heard his mother talking to some people at the door. Francis hesitated, feeling suspicious.

"Hey boss," said one of several burly men clanging at a pipe in the corner of the basement, "we can't see much anymore. Mind if we take a break?"

The men all nodded in agreement. Francis stared at them incredulously; he had almost forgotten they were there. They had only been working an hour, and yet they were already so lazy that they needed a break. And at the price they charged, too. He felt indignant, but as he paid closer attention to the voices upstairs, he realized he was in a bit of trouble: One male, one female. Both belonging to his teen foes.

It was about time his maintenance men were put to action.

"Alright," he said. "Have a little break, but stay down here."

"Why?"

Before Francis could answer, Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable appeared at the foot of the basement stairway. Although he had taken off his fake mustache and couldn't find it on the table anymore, Francis felt himself make his mental transformation in an instant. No longer was he Francis Lurman; now, he was Frugal Lucre. A baddie on a budget. A dastardly devil on a discount. A big, big supervillain at a low, low cost. Frugal grabbed a colorful squirt gun from beside his desktop computer and aimed it at his teen foes before they could advance any further. He had been expecting them, although he didn't know why his mother had let them in.

"Francis, your friends are here to see you!"

"Ma, these are the two that got me arrested last time! Why'd you let them in?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey! I guess I didn't recognize them. They seemed nice!"

Frugal slapped a hand to his face before returning it quickly to the trigger of his squirt gun. The burly maintenance men standing in the dim basement stared at the scene in confusion. Kim and her goofy sidekick looked a little confused as well. Frugal was glad; the element of surprise was most definitely on his side.

"I've been expecting you, Kim Possible! You'll never defeat me!"

"Come on, Frugal," said Kim, "Two dollars per person? You really need to aim higher. And you're using a squirt gun again? What's it filled with this time?"

"The oil from the outside of popcorn bags!" said Lucre with a wild cackle. "Have you ever tried to wash that stuff off your fingers? It takes minutes, and you still feel like there's a residue left over!"

"Oh, that's _diabolical_," said Ron. He gave a low whistle.

Francis was glad to see his evil genius acknowledged.

"Just as soon as _mother turns the circuit breakers back on_," said Francis, raising his voice to make sure his mother heard him upstairs, "my computer will be back online, and I will send out my hypnosis-inducing supervirus package within seconds! The world will pay for failing to pay!"

"Huh?"

"The two dollars per person. People weren't sending it in."

"How much did you get?" asked Ron.

"About fifty-four dollars," said Francis. "Not _that_ bad, I guess. I could probably get a custom supervillain outfit for that."

"Or a whole bunch of Nacos."

"Really? How much are those?"

"Well, usually it's about five bucks for a combo, but if you print out coupons from the site you can-"

"_Ron!_"

"Oh, right. Saving the world. Sorry, KP."

Kim nodded and turned threateningly back to Frugal. "Your power isn't coming back on, Lucre. Wade shut it down so you couldn't send out the virus." She smirked and looked at the group of men around Frugal. They had been gathered around some piping in the corner of the basement when she first came down, and they were wearing matching uniforms. "Not bad," she said, "you actually got some henchmen this time?"

One of the men took a step forward.

"Uh, we were-"

"That's right!" interrupted Frugal. "I'm in the big leagues now, Kim! Henchmen, attack!"

Kim wasted it no time in taking the initiative, rushing forward and knocking one of the henchmen backwards with a flying kick. The other henchmen stepped back in shock, apparently unused to fighting such an experienced foe, and Kim did a flip in the direction of the next one, landing lightly and coming at him with a flurry of punches. He tried to fend them off, but he was no match for his teen foe.

Meanwhile, Ron sprinted forward, about to try to take Lucre down, when he got a faceful of popcorn oil instead. He sputtered as Lucre pumped his squirt gun and laughed maniacally. Eyes closed to keep the oil from getting in, Ron tried to wipe the stuff from his face, but it only made his hands oily as well. He spat out a mouthful of the oil, which _did_ have a tasty buttery flavor to it, at least.

"KP!" he said. "I can't see!"

Kim Possible finished dispatching the henchmen in record time, although the last one held up his hands to surrender before she came after him. She stopped in mid-punch as the man quaked in fear. "Why are you attacking us?" he said. "We don't want to fight!"

"What? What kind of henchmen are you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about! That guy just hired us to fix his pipes, then things got all weird!"

Kim gaped at the man as she took a closer look at their uniforms. The basement was dark from the lack of power, save for a dull light coming in from a small basement window, but now that she looked more closely, they _did_ seem to be wearing some kind of maintenance uniforms. She should have known; Lucre was too cheap to buy actual henchmen. "I'm so sorry," she said, helping the men back to their feet. "Are you guys okay?"

"Other than my bones, yeah. Thanks lady."

"Sorry!"

Kim looked back at Ron, who was still stumbling blindly around while trying to get the popcorn oil off of himself. She heard the sound of thumping feet going up the stairs and realized Frugal Lucre was escaping. The maintenance workers may not have been henchmen, but they sure worked well as distractions. "Ron, come on!" she said as she grabbed her boyfriend by the arm. "He's getting away!"

The two of them rushed up the stairs in hot pursuit. Kim caught a glimpse of Frugal Lucre turning a corner just as they reached the top of the basement stairs. She rushed past the kitchen, where she caught a quick glimpse of Frugal's mother removing what looked like Toaster Toasties from the oven. Fortunately she still had Ron by the arm; otherwise there was a good chance he would have stopped and gone into the kitchen at the smell of the food. Frugal burst through the back door of the house and closed it before Kim could reach the door; she pulled on the handle for a few moments before realizing it was locked.

"Open up!" she yelled.

But Frugal obviously wasn't going to open up. She gave the door a solid kick and sent it flying, feeling a little guilty about making a mess which Frugal's mother would most likely clean up. But it had to be done. She and Ron raced out into the yard, but it was empty save for some trees and bushes planted here and there. A tall wooden fence surrounded the yard on all sides; it seemed a bit high for Frugal to leap over, but he had to be past it. She raced across the yard to take a look over the fence and see where he was. Before she reached it, however, she suddenly felt the ground disappear beneath her feet.

"What the-"

Kim's exclamation cut off as she dropped into a deep hole in the yard with a thud, ending up lying on her back. She looked up just in time to see Ron come tumbling down after her, landing square on her chest and knocking the air out of her lungs. A hail of dirt clods rained down on them, knocked loose from the pit's steep earthen walls.

"My bad, KP!"

Ron rolled aside. "That's alright," groaned Kim as she gingerly sat up and dusted the dirt away.

"Man, Lucre dug a _hole_ in the ground? That's a cheap trick, even for him. And I mean literally – all you gotta buy is a shovel!"

Kim looked up at the sunlight coming from the top of the hole. She had to admit, it was pretty deep. Sometimes simple was effective. She jumped up, trying to grab onto the edge of the hole with her hands, but it was a few feet too high. Before she could think about her next move, the sunlight above them was partially blocked as someone leaned over the edge and looked down at them.

"Hah!" said Frugal Lucre. "I was hiding behind a bush the whole time, and you guys ran straight into my Hole in the Ground Trap! Patent pending!"

"How can you patent a hole in the ground?" asked Kim.

"Don't criticize my inventions when they-"

Although Kim saw it coming, she still couldn't help but wince as Lucre stepped a little too close to the edge of the hole. A clod of dirt crumbled away, sending him tumbling down the steep dirt wall with a shrill scream. Since Kim and Ron were already standing up, they managed to plaster themselves back against the other side of the hole as their foe fell, letting him hit the soft earthen floor of the hole with a loud _thunk!_

"Uuugh," he said, rolling over after lying prone for a moment. "That really hurt."

Ron stuck out his tongue. "Karma, Lucre!"

Frugal Lucre grumbled as he slowly sat up, nursing a crick in his neck and resting against the side of the hole. The three of them fell into an uneasy silence, and Frugal's bluster seemed to deflate as rapidly as an untied balloon. From the look of it, he was beginning to accept that his plan had been foiled once again.

_ Not that it was much of a plan_, thought Kim.

She looked up to the top of the hole, wondering how they could get out. She pulled the grappling gun from her pocket, feeling a little skeptical about how effective it would be; sure enough, when she fired it out of the hole and let the hook fall outside, a few tugs only sent it falling back into the hole with some grass and dirt collected on it. There was no place for it to hook easily. Kim sighed; maybe a hole in the ground was quite a bit more effective than she would have expected.

"You know, it wasn't even my plan," said Lucre. "It was Drakken's plan! You should send _him_ to jail - it was all his idea. Don't blame me for his evildoing!"

"Oh, please," scoffed Kim. "Take some responsibility for your lameness, Lucre. This plan has your name written all over it."

"No way! Drakken came over with his cousin the other day and told me what to do. He threatened me, said I had to get it finished or else I'd be in big trouble!"

"Yeah, like Drakken would ever work with Motor Ed."

"He did that one time, KP."

Kim paused as she remembered the Doomvee. "Oh, right," she said. "Well, still, internet viruses aren't Drakken's thing. And you sent that video out yourself, Lucre. No Drakken involved. Which was pretty stupid, by the way – if you have a video virus that hypnotizes people when they load it, why didn't you just email it out first and get people to send you the two dollars after they were hypnotized? Why broadcast the fact that you had the virus first so we could come stop you?"

"KP, sssh! You're giving him tips! Remember what happened when I did that to the Seniors?"

Kim had to admit her boyfriend had a point.

"Isn't that how it's done?" asked Lucre. "I have to announce my world domination scheme. What's the point in having one if you don't announce it?"

Ron, apparently forgetting his own advice almost immediately, shook his head. "You don't have to announce it, dude. Not to everybody, at least. It is one option, but it's best when nobody knows where you are. If the heroes know where you are, it's better to lead them into a trap deliberately, and then tell them all about your plan after you capture them, just before you destroy them with a laser or something."

"Ron!" said Kim. "What's the deal! You just told _me_ not to give him tips on supervillain protocol!"

"Just trying to be conversational, Kim. We're stuck in a hole, after all."

Kim tried to claw her way up the side of the hole, but the earth gave way too easily. After a moment, all she had accomplished was getting some dirt under her fingernails, which felt disgusting. She looked up at the top of the hole, her irritation rising, when she realized the obvious solution she had been forgetting. "Francis," she said, "call your mom."

"I think she's busy baking."

"Call your mom so she can get us out of this hole, stupid."

"Oh, yeah. No need to be rude. _Maaa!_"

Kim and Ron winced at Francis' loud screech. It did the trick, though; they only had to wait a few minutes until Lucre's mother appeared at the top of the hole, silhouetted by the sun as she looked down at them. "Sweetie," she said, "why are you playing with your friends in that hole? You're gonna get dirty down there!"

"We got stuck, ma. Can you get us out?"

"Of course!"

Francis' mother disappeared from the top of the hole. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally reappeared with a metal ladder, dumping it into the hole and almost hitting its occupants on their heads. Kim grumbled as she positioned the ladder as well as she could in the limited space that was available and then climbed up. A rope would have been easier. She took Lucre's mother's hand at the top as she helped her out onto the ground. Ron and Lucre followed closely.

"Sorry," said Kim as she grabbed Lucre firmly by the arm, "but we have to take your son to prison."

"Oh, right," said Mrs. Lurman as she peered at her teen guests. "I keep forgetting you're those two teens he got in trouble with the first time. Oh Francis, I wish you could behave yourself more."

"Sorry, ma."

Not wanting to spend any more time in such an awkward family situation, Kim led Frugal towards the back door of his house, which was laying on the ground after having been knocked off its hinges by her powerful kick. She thought about apologizing to Mrs. Lurman, but her mind went back to what he had said in the pit, and his ridiculous attempt to pin the plan on Drakken.

It _seemed_ ridiculous, anyway.

"Hey Mrs. Lurman," she said as Francis' mother followed them into the house, "do you know how Francis came up with his latest plan?"

"Francis doesn't talk to me much about his hobby, dear."

"Well, what I mean is, did he come up with the whole thing himself?"

"I sure didn't!" said Francis. "Tell her about how Drakken and his cousin visited you the other day, ma! About how they gave me the whole scheme and told me to make the virus for them!"

"That's right," said Mrs. Lurman. "The man with the blue skin and the bigger man with the tattoo and the mullet. They came here just the other day, bothering my little boy!"

Kim listened to the tale, keeping a steady grip on Francis in case he tried to make a run for it again. His mother tried to lead them into the kitchen for a few Toaster Toasties before they left, but Kim declined. She didn't believe the story the Lurmans were trying to feed her, seeing as Lucre had just openly told his mom to agree with his claim. And even if he hadn't done that, they could have agreed to pin the blame on someone else beforehand. Kim, Ron, and Francis stepped out of the house and into the street out front, where several police cars had already gathered.

"Thanks, officer," she said as she handed her prisoner into the cop's custody.

"You're welcome, Kim Possible! Thanks for doing our job for us!"

Kim brushed off the praise as the police put Francis into the back seat of a cruiser. One squad car stayed behind as a couple of police officers joined Mrs. Lurman inside to question her about her son's activities. Mrs. Lurman gave Kim and Ron a wave before closing the door, and Ron waved back enthusiastically.

"Another villain down!" said Ron.

"Totally."

"His mom's pretty nice, though. You sure we can't grab some of those Toaster Toasties for the drive back, KP?"

"I think she's a little busy right now."

As they began to walk towards the Sloth, Kim wondered why Francis' mother was so upbeat about everything. Her son seemed to cause her no end of trouble, and apparently she had at least some kind of understanding that her son was a supervillain. Or regular villain. Or slightly irritating man-child, to be really specific. She barely seemed to blink an eye at seeing her son go to jail; Kim wondered if Mrs. Lurman was expecting her son back soon. Maybe she had a lot of money for bail. Supervillains never seemed to stay behind bars for long, after all. Either they escaped or they were let go within months, regardless of how heinous their world domination schemes got. It was a strange world, Kim thought.

Stranger still, however, was Frugal Lucre's attempt to blame Drakken.

Why had he chosen _Drakken_ as a scapegoat? She did remember hearing something from Wade about the two of them sharing a cell together when Drakken was imprisoned after that Li'l Diablo scheme, so she supposed they were familiar with each other. But now that she thought about it, Mrs. Lurman had been surprisingly specific about what Motor Ed looked like. Of course, Lucre could have told her beforehand. But the more she thought about it, the more she smelled something fishy going on.

They hadn't heard anything from Drakken in a while, after all. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to check things out. And if Drakken was involved, it could give her a chance of winning that bet with Ron. She _really_ wanted that shopping spree.

XX

* * *

_**Notes** - You know, it wasn't like I planned it this way, but I guess this chapter's title is pretty holiday appropriate. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!_


	11. Smells Can Be Deceiving

**Smells Can Be Deceiving**

XX

Something about the wind blowing through Drakken's hair, whipping his black mini-mullet back and forth behind his head, gave him a sense of freedom like no other. It probably wasn't safe riding a motorcycle with someone like Eddie driving the thing, but his cousin had assured him that the forest floor would pad their fall if they wiped out. When his cousin had proposed a ride through the woods surrounding the cottage, Drakken couldn't resist – not after the unexpected pleasure of visiting Frugal Lucre the other day on Eddie's hog, as he called it. Weaving among the trees, narrowly avoiding sloping rocks that would have launched them straight into sharp branches and thick trunks - it was exhilarating. It was liberating.

The sun was going down, however, and it was about time to return to the cottage. Riding on the back of the motorcycle with his cousin had relieved some stress, but Drakken felt it returning as they emerged from the woods and came to a halt on the lawn outside the cottage. He got off as Eddie stored the bike in the faux-storage shed that also hid their hovercraft. Now that they were back, he would have to try calling Frugal Lucre again. After that first call, he had tried a couple more times only to get an answering machine. His patience was beginning to wear thin. He wanted his virus _done_, and fast. Maybe he and his cousin would have to pay Lucre another visit later in the evening.

"Dude, did I not tell you that would be totally sweet?" said Motor Ed.

"I must admit, it was quite sweet!"

"Usually I like to ride around in a junk yard with all kinds of obstacles, but I figured the forest would be cool, too. And when I'm right, I am _right_! Seriously!"

The two of them opened the cottage's front door. Although the status of Drakken's scheme with Frugal Lucre was still up in the air, he could at least look forward to coming inside without any family stress – Dementor had been off working all day, wherever _that_ was, and his mother had left about an hour earlier to meet Dementor for a romantic dinner once he got off for the weekend. Seeing as his mother's car was not in front of the cottage, they hadn't returned yet. Which meant Drakken could have a little peace and quiet. Except for his cousin, who could sometimes chatter a little much. But despite that, he was definitely enjoying Eddie's company more than he ever had in the past.

"Shego," he said as he came inside and found his henchwoman in the living room, "do we have any more of those strudels, or did you eat the rest of them?"

"Excuse me, but you ate like twice as many as me!"

"That's a lie, Shego."

"Whatever. There's more under plastic wrap on the counter."

Drakken licked his lips at the news. It pained him to admit it, but somehow Dementor's strudel had a taste so delectable that it canceled out the horrible smell that came with it. Looks – or maybe smells, to be more precise – could be deceiving. According to his stepfather, it was a Demens family recipe. The recipe was almost as strange as Dementor himself. But as long as Drakken didn't breathe too deeply, they were an undeniably tasty treat. He unwrapped the leftovers, stacked on a white porcelain plate, and grabbed one for himself while his cousin grabbed another.

"Drew," said Eddie, "I'm telling you, we should check out that hairstyling place in Middleton. I've been there a couple times when I came up here from Jersey to visit Aunt C, and they know how to make the most righteous mullet you've ever seen. Seriously! You got a good start back there, but with a little length and some fluffing, I might even let you ride my hog!"

A loud snicker came from the living room. Shego must have found Eddie's comment funny for some reason, but Drakken didn't know what was so amusing about it. His cousin was clearly an expert on 'hogs', as he liked to call motorcycles, and Drakken couldn't help feeling excited at the prospect of learning to ride one. It would certainly earn him some cool points, although Shego would probably never admit it. Of course, being an evil genius was already about as cool as it got. His cool points were probably maxed out already.

"Uh, hey, Doctor D? You might want to come in here."

"What is it, Shego?"

Drakken stepped into the living room with his strudel in hand, making sure to hold it away from his nose and only take a bite when he was exhaling. Shego had been flipping channels, and Drakken immediately saw what had caught her attention. He gasped - first in surprise, then in horror. The television anchorwoman on the news channel Shego was watching clasped her hands together at the news desk as she reported on a breaking story. Superimposed beside her head was a photo insert of Frugal Lucre.

"-threatened to release a 'hypnosis supervirus' over the internet unless the world's population wired two dollars per person to his online account. Soon after the announcement, Middleton superhero Kim Possible and an unidentified sidekick rushed to the location and apprehended Lurman, also known by the supervillain alter ego of Frugal Lucre. Next up, animals riding miniature water skis!"

"_Nooooo!_"

Drakken dropped the strudel to the ground and walked closer to the television as he listened to the breaking news.

"Dude, animals riding water skis are cute," said Eddie. "What's the deal?"

But Drakken wasn't crushed by the animal-sports-related news. After a moment of disbelief, he sank down into the couch beside Shego and wrapped his head in his hands. Not only had Frugal Lucre betrayed him and stolen his plan, but the man had completely _botched_ the plan, too. And in less than a day! The gravity of the situation sunk in; Operation Britina Teeny Weeny Polka Dot Bikini Paparazzi Megavirus was a total bust, which meant that Dementor now had free reign to take over the world himself. He had been riding high on the exhilaration of the motorcycle ride his cousin, but he felt his good mood sink into a mire of self-pity as he cursed his bad luck.

"Er, sorry, Doctor D. If it makes you feel any better, I thought it was kind of a lame plan, anyway."

"_Why_ would that make me feel any better?"

"Hmm. Okay, good point."

Shego gave her boss an awkward pat on the back. Eddie walked around to the front of the couch as well – he was about to try to take a seat between Shego and Drakken so he could perhaps comfort his cousin and flirt with Shego at the same time, but judging by the murderous look Shego shot him, Eddie decided it was probably a better idea to sit on Drakken's other side. "There, there," he told his cousin. "It's all good, dude. That Lucre guy was a total weasel, anyway. I figured he was gonna steal your plan."

"What? Why didn't you tell me that?"

"I dunno - you seemed like you knew what you were doing, cuz. Seriously!"

As Shego watched her boss rocking back and forth on the couch while he retracted into a fetal position, she couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. Maybe the plan _was_ stupid, but it had obviously been some kind of rivalry with Dementor that was made even more important by the man's total intrusion into Doctor D's family. There was no doubt about it; Drakken had been having a difficult time lately. She wondered what might cheer him up.

"Hey, Doctor D," she suggested, "you know what day it is, right?"

"What day is it, Shego? The day of catastrophic failure? The day Dementor watches me fall into the mud and kicks me in the head with an iron boot?"

"Um, maybe – wait, no. I was gonna say it's Friday."

"So what?"

"Friday is karaoke day, Doctor D."

Drakken stared at Shego, not believing the words that had just come out of her mouth. Maybe he was hallucinating. He sniffed a few times, wiping a single tear from his eye, as his expression changed from despair to hope. "You mean it, Shego? You'd really like to go to karaoke?"

"Sure, why not?"

Eddie pumped his fist. "I'm gonna sing some Iron Maiden – seriously! Karaoke sounds totally righteous! "

"I AGREE!"

Startled by the loud exclamation, the three of them looked over the couch to see Dementor and Claudia Lipsky standing in the living room's entry way. Dementor was dressed in his work suit, carrying a briefcase in one hand, while Claudia wore a flashy red dress she had worn for her romantic dinner with her new husband.

"Karaoke sounds like a great idea after ze long day at work! Ve shall all go and have a fun family time, no?"

Drakken opened his mouth to object, but he already knew it was pointless. His mother would insist, and now that Dementor was back, there was no way he was going to end up in a good mood anyway. He felt the fight seep out of him as he grew resigned to his fate. Dementor dashed off after seeing Drakken's tacit assent.

"I vill be back soon. I must change!"

"Ooh, this is wonderful," said Claudia. "You boys should all go out together and bond a little. I'm not very interested in the karywhatsit, so I think I'll just stay here and do a little knitting. I wouldn't want to get in the way of a guys' night out, after all!"

Claudia shuffled off down the hall as Drakken sank back into the couch with a groan.

Shego felt guilty as she looked at her boss, defeated and deflated, half sunk into the couch cushions like a broken doll. Somehow her plan to cheer up her boss had totally failed. "Uh, sorry about that, Doctor D," she said. "I wouldn't have said karaoke if I didn't know they were standing behind us."

"Quite alright, Shego. You tried, at least."

"Hey, what's the big deal guys? This is gonna _rock_!"

Shego stared dully as Eddie leaped up on the couch, making Drakken bounce momentarily like a rag doll as he played air guitar. She began to suspect her boss wasn't the only one who had just gotten roped into a long night.

XX

Ron returned to the booth holding a tray laden with a second helping of Bueno Nacho. The tray was almost upended as Rufus jumped onto it and grabbed a mouthful of chips, unable to contain his excitement any longer. Kim flinched, expecting the tray to flip over right into her face, but Ron managed to keep it balanced and transfer it quickly to the table, averting disaster. Kim smiled as she scooted to the side to give her boyfriend some room. Across from them, Monique also breathed a sigh of a relief.

"That was a close one, Ron."

"The Ron Man saves the day yet again!"

Kim thought one Naco combo was enough for her, and it was a good thing she felt that way; between Ron, Monique, and Rufus, the second order disappeared almost before it hit the table, magically transforming from carefully packaged combo meals to a collection of torn and scattered paper and crumbs strewn across the table. Kim watched the proceedings with a combination of awe and horror. Rufus, in particular, had a way of absorbing food that Kim would have thought would be impossible to fit in his body.

"So, did we miss anything in school, Mon?"

Monique shook her head after swallowing a last mouthful of her obligated Naco. "Not really," she said. "Ron Reager got caught hacking into the school's computer system to change his grades after lunch."

"Yikes. Who caught him?"

"Mrs. Andrews."

Kim grunted in surprise. It was the first time in a long time she could remember anyone being caught at Middleton High School by a teacher other than Mr. Barkin. And since it was Mrs. Andrews, Reager had probably avoided a punishment worse than a few detentions. Kim wondered if the elderly Mrs. Andrews even know what a computer _was, _much less hacking.

"While he was hacking the grades," asked Ron with a hopeful look, "did he happen to change my grade in Mr. Barkin's math class? Just out of the kindness of his heart, maybe?"

"Um, I dunno, Ron. But I seriously doubt it."

"Nuts."

Kim had been thinking about their visit to Frugal Lucre earlier, and as she looked out the booth's window, her thoughts returned to what the he had claimed about his scheme. She had Wade on the case to see if he could hear anything about Drakken on whatever Wade's version of a grapevine was, seeing as their archenemy had been keeping a low profile lately. The search for Dementor and the Pan-dimensional Vortex Inducer had been going nowhere. Kim was beginning to feel impatient; even if Lucre's claims about Drakken working with him were just a cop out, at least looking into it might give her the sense that she was doing something useful.

She was about to call Wade just in case anything had turned up when – as if in answer to her thoughts – her Kimmunicator let out its familiar _beep beep BE beep! _She fished the device out of her pocket. "Hey Wade," she said. "What's the sitch? Figure out if Drakken's been paying any visits to casa de Lurman lately?"

"Yep!"

Kim grinned in triumph. "Spill," she said.

"I got an image of two people on a motorcycle from a traffic camera above an intersection near Lucre's house. I couldn't really see their faces, but they definitely looked like Motor Ed and Drakken. Also, I checked up on it, and Motor Ed got released from prison just the other day."

Wade put up the traffic camera image, and Kim grinned in triumph. It _had_ to be them. She knew she hadn't been barking up the wrong tree when she sensed something serious in Frugal Lucre's accusations. Maybe it wasn't a lead on the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer, which they really needed to find before they got sucked into another dimension, but at least she could take another one of her foes down. She hoped they could do it right after Bueno Nacho, although Ron might complain about two missions in a single Friday.

"So, any ideas on where Drakken might be?"

"Unfortunately, no. His usual lair locations seem to be abandoned or inactive, and I haven't gotten any clues yet."

Kim's mood dampened a little at the news. One of the useful things about fighting supervillains was that they always seemed to have strong preferences for what kinds of lairs they used – the Seniors enjoyed islands, Drakken enjoyed mountaintop lairs, also sometimes on islands, and Dementor liked over-the-top facilities decorated with classical motifs. Sometimes they even used the exact same location after their previous lair had been destroyed. There were some unspoken rules and traditions in supervillainy that even Kim failed to understand. But in this case, it didn't look like supervillain eccentricities would be helpful. Maybe that Li'l Diablo scheme had been a sign that Drakken was improving.

"I _do_ have one idea," said Wade.

"What's that?"

"You could talk to his mom."

Kim frowned. It seemed a little far-fetched.

"You think his mom would know anything? She seemed kind of oblivious when we saw them together on Mother's Day. Remember that, Ron? She thought the syntho-plasma was a thermos of coffee."

"Haha, yeah. Good times. She was nice lady, though!"

"The thing is," said Wade, "I wouldn't have mentioned it, but I was looking around for Drakken's name to see if he was in the area, and I while I didn't see anything, I _did_ notice the name 'Claudia Lipsky' popping up a lot around the Lowerton area. Making purchases, having things shipped to this new cottage that got built on the outskirts of the town, like she just moved there."

"Why would anyone move to Lowerton unless they had to?" asked Ron.

Wade nodded. "Exactly. And I _am_ picking up a few weird readings from the cottage."

Kim felt her curiosity rising by the second. "Interesting. Worth stopping by, I guess. Send me the location and I'll let you know what we find, Wade!"

Kim made sure she got the coordinates and then returned the Kimmunicator to her pocket while Ron gave her a look of protest. "Right now?" he complained. "What about Bueno Nacho, KP? I was gonna get a third helping!"

"I thought you only had money for seconds, Ron."

"Well, I was going to ask _you_ to get me a third helping. Or Monique."

"Fat chance," said Monique.

Kim rolled her eyes and motioned for Ron to step out of the booth so she could get up. The two of them were just about to leave when Josh Mankey walked past with a tray of food. "Josh!" said Kim. "I didn't even see you come in!"

"Oh, hey, Kim! Stoppable, Monique," he said, nodding to everyone in turn.

"Hello, _Mankey_," said Ron, his voice forced.

Monique gave Josh a nervous laugh in reply. Kim noticed the reaction and barely held back a grin as she realized how perfect the timing was. "You know what," she told Josh, "me and Ron were just leaving to go do one of our missions. Which means Monique would be eating alone. Maybe you could keep her company?"

"Oh no," laughed Monique as, for just a moment, she cast Kim a barely discernible glare. "He doesn't need to do that, Kim. I'm sure he's eating with friends."

"Nah, I'm eating alone. I'd be happy to keep you company!"

Josh sat down at the booth with his tray and began to talk to Monique. Since Kim was standing behind him, she could get away with giving her friend a wink, which Monique definitely noticed. She looked a little mortified to be caught off guard by the boy she so _obviously_ had a crush on, even if she kept denying it - but Kim knew her friend would thank her later. Sometime over the weekend, maybe, when Monique dished on what happened. Hopefully during a Ron-funded shopping spree, if Wade got some news about Dementor before they took Drakken down and helped Kim win their bet. If not, she'd have to learn all the juicy Monique and Josh gossip on a trip to JP Bearymore's – but that would be alright, too.

XX

Glaring lights beat mercilessly down on Drakken as he tried his best to peer out into the audience. It was actually a dark room, but somehow, various lights around the karaoke stage all seemed to be pointed directly into his face. The crowd seemed rowdier than usual. Angry silhouettes, gathered at tables around the room and facing the stage, glared up at him. Some jeered or made comments which were too vague to pick up completely, but they were definitely negative. Beer bottles smacked emphatically against tables as they waited for his song to finish.

"I looked intooo my father's eyes..."

Drakken thought he could make out Shego, Dementor, and his cousin nearer to the bar along the side of the room. Shego and Dementor both seemed to be watching him, although as he watched, Eddie looked like he was saying something to Shego that resulted in a flash of brilliant green and a loud crash as his cousin went flying against a nearby empty table. The crowd was rowdy enough that they only bothered looking back at the commotion for a moment before returning their attention to the stage. The song ended, to Drakken's intense relief. It was karaoke roulette, and with _that_ awkward song, Drakken definitely didn't have the luck of the draw on his side.

"Anyone else?" he asked.

"No, play another one!" shouted a man from the audience.

The others laughed; apparently they were more interested in drinking and poking fun at performers than they were in sharing the karaoke experience. Drakken began to grow annoyed. People weren't this harsh in Middleton. Maybe if he had a better song next time. He pressed a button on the song machine and waited for it to pick its next selection.

When it did, he groaned in despair. _Father of Mine_ by Everclear? Why was he getting so unlucky? He canceled the song, even though it wasn't good karaoke etiquette, and got the machine to cycle through to another one. After a moment, _My New Daddy is Evil_ by Britina flashed onto the screen.

"Oh, come on!" he shouted. "That's just oddly specific!"

"What was that, Doctor D?"

Drakken whirled around to find Shego standing on the stage with him. She reached for the microphone, and he breathed a sigh of relief. His knight in shining armor! Not literally, but still, he couldn't remember the last time Shego had taken to the stage without constant nagging on his part. Tonight, maybe she was actually bailing him out.

"You really want to sing, Shego?"

"Well, I couldn't stand any more of you making a fool of yourself up here. And I'm getting tired of Eddie hitting on me, plus I'm a little tipsy. So yeah, why not. Now gimme some room!"

Drakken obediently scrambled off the stage as Shego told the machine to pick another random song, apparently not interested in singing one by Britina. Drakken made his way through the hostile crowd, trying to ignore several cruel pokes and sarcastic comments as he approached the bar. Either tonight's crowd didn't understand the spirit of karaoke, thought Drakken, or he was in such a bad mood that he was imaging a crueler reaction than he was really getting. Either way, he was glad to be off the stage.

"My son," said Dementor, "have a drink!"

"No thank you."

"I must insist!"

Drakken didn't feel like arguing, so he took the drink Dementor offered him as he watched Shego up on the stage, singing some kind of pop number that she definitely wouldn't be singing if she hadn't already had a few drinks herself. He listened closely; if he wasn't mistaken, it was actually another Britina song. Maybe she had just skipped the father-themed one out of respect for him. He smiled at the thought. Shego liked to give him a hard time, but they really _were_ like a little family, even if she'd never admit it.

"Dat vas a very good performance up there," said Dementor. "How do you say it – you knocked dat out of the baseball park!"

Eddie laughed and slapped Drakken on the back, almost sending him flying off the bar stool in which he was sitting. "He's right, cuz! That was awesome, _seriously_!"

"You guys really think so?"

Dementor and his cousin nodded, and while it was darker out in the audience than it was up on the stage, as far as Drakken could tell, they were both being serious. He felt his spirits perk up just a little. Maybe it was just the content of the songs that had thrown him off guard. He _was_ a perfectly good singer, after all. Never mind what the audience thought.

"You don't have the kinda moves that Green's got, though," said Eddie as he watched Shego gyrating up on the stage. "No offense, dude."

Drakken had to admit that Shego was moving her hips to an extent he had never seen before in all their karaoke Fridays together. The audience's reaction to her was just about the polar opposite of what _he_ had gotten from them. Shego was a coworker, and almost like a family member in her own way – and yet watching her getting into the Britina song was causing certain mental images to pop into Drakken's brain. Somehow, the images were both pleasant and unsettling. Drakken decided to turn back to his cousin and stepfather at the bar in order to try to keep his imagination from going into some awkward places. Lately, things had been weird enough.

"Check out some of these babes!" said Motor Ed as he looked around the bar. "I dunno man, I keep puttin' the moves on Shego, but she doesn't seem to be into the motorcycles and the mullet and the tattoo. I didn't think it was possible for a babe _not_ to be into that stuff. I mean, seriously, tattoos are chick magnets. Do you know how many babes come up to me and ask about the 'Ed' I have tattooed on my arm?"

"I do not," said Dementor earnestly. "How many?"

"Lots, dude! Seriously! You'd think it's obvious it's my name, but sometimes they ask me about like it's two letters or something, E and D, and if I'm taking pills for that. No idea what that means, but I gotta explain to them it's just short for my proper name, 'Eddie'. Chicks, man - sometimes you gotta explain things to 'em, you know?"

"Yes," laughed Dementor. "I know vat you mean, indeed. De chicks, yes. As for Shego, why is it zat _you_ do not make de moves on her, Drakken?"

Drakken had just gotten a cocktail from the bartender, but he sputtered his first sip back out onto the counter. The bartender glared at him before wiping it away with a towel. "What was that?" he said. "What are you talking about?"

"Your mother seems interested in ze two of you being together. You haf lived together for a long time, no?"

"Yes, as coworkers. That's all."

Drakken did not like the turn the conversation was about to take. Hoping he might be able to use his cousin to change the subject somehow, he turned, only to see Eddie off mingling in the middle of the audience around the stage, chatting it up with one woman before abruptly leaving and going to another woman. Apparently things had not worked out with the first one. Drakken knew that Eddie would have probably just joined his stepfather on the awkward subject of Shego, anyway.

"You know," said Dementor as he leaned a little closer to Drakken, one arm resting on the bar counter, "I did not go after ze girls for a long time, either. I vas so engrossed in my work, but it makes one lonely, und I do vant the romance as much as anyone else. Even an evil genius deserves a little of ze love, do you know? Maybe you are ze same way? I can tell you I haf been quite happy with your mother."

"Who is more than two decades older than you!" snapped Drakken.

"Yes, yes, details. But with a woman like _dat_ living with you," said Dementor, tilting his head in the direction of Shego, who was making some kind of windmill guitar motion on the stage, "I do not know how dose kinds of thoughts haf not entered your brain. If you do not mind mine asking, do you – do you understand, how do you say it - de birds and de bees?"

Drakken let out a groan of despair. This could _not_ be happening.

"I am happy to explain ze process to you, if you are unclear. Believe me, I spent so much time in mine youth preparing to dominate ze world, it was a little late before I read about it! But, you see, dere is nothing wrong with enjoying a little romance in between ze world dominating. Your mother and I, we are _very_ active with ze-"

"_Stop right there!_"

Several heads in the audience turned from Shego's singing to the sound of the shrill exclamation. Drakken slumped over on the bar counter, wondering when the night would end. Things had almost been going well there for a moment, but as usual, Dementor had to make things incredibly awkward.

Although, strangely enough, it _did_ seem like the man was trying to bond, in his own twisted way. Drakken had been thinking about Dementor's behavior lately, and he became more confused the more he considered it. He had been certain the man was just using his mother to take over his lair and neutralize him as a foe. And yet, if that _was_ his goal, he had already fooled Drakken's mother. He had already won, really. Drakken's henchmen were no match for Dementor's, and the hypnosis plan had already failed. And yet here Dementor was, still spending a lot of unnecessary time and energy trying to be a father figure. Why?

XX

Claudia Lipsky was knitting a fuzzy winter sweater for her son when the doorbell rang. She set the beginnings of the sweater carefully down on the coffee table, arranging the needles so that she could pick her knitting back up immediately, and got up from the couch to open the front door. She wondered who it could be; maybe her family, but she had expected them to be out all night. Claudia certainly wasn't a party animal, which was why she was at home, but it _was_ a Friday, after all. She opened the door to find a familiar-looking redheaded teen and her blond, freckled sidekick waiting outside. Along with a slightly creepy looking animal perched on the latter's shoulder.

"Hello, Mrs. Lipsky," said the redhead.

"Well hello there! I haven't seen you two in a long time – you're those friends of my son Drewbie, aren't you? Kimberly and, um, whatever your name was, sweetie."

Ron gave Kim a questioning look, at which Kim shrugged before responding.

"Yeah, we're friends of, uh, Drewbie. I'm Kim, and this is Ron. We were wondering if he was here?"

"I'm afraid not," said Claudia. "My son is a very busy boy with his radio show. He doesn't visit his poor mother very often."

"That's too bad. Can we come in, by any chance?"

"Of course!"

Claudia stepped aside and let the two teens enter the cottage. "I was working on some knitting just now, but I'm always happy to have guests stopping by."

"Hey," said Ron as he sniffed the air, "are you cooking something?"

"I sure am. Strudel! If you wait a little bit, you can have some!"

From the look of it, Ronald was not enthused. Claudia went into the kitchen to check on the progress of the strudel. She was trying out the recipe that her husband had taught her, since all the strudel he had made so far was already eaten. Hopefully she would have a new batch made as a surprise by the time her family got back, and Hans could let her know just how successful it was. And, of course, when it came to the food she made, getting a good verdict from her little Drewbie was always most important.

The two teens joined her in the kitchen as she checked the oven's time. Both of them were grimacing and wrinkling their noses at the smell. Claudia chuckled; they would soon be pleasantly surprised. She knew the smell was unusual, but appearances could be deceiving. Or smells could be deceiving, she corrected herself. The appearance of smells? No, that wasn't it. She began to get confused...

"Mrs. Lipsky?"

"Yes, dear?"

"You were spacing out."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Just thinking about my strudel! By the way, would you two mind if I went to the bathroom for just a minute? You can wait in the living room, there's a comfortable couch in there. Just don't destroy my sweater, please. Lord knows how many times I've accidentally pulled a thread as I walked away."

"We'll be extra careful with the knitting," said Kim.

"There's a good girl!"

Claudia waited until the two teens had gone into the living room, and then pulled an address book out of one of the kitchen drawers before she made her way upstairs to the bedroom she and Hans shared. She closed the door carefully behind her, wanting a little privacy, before sitting down on the bed and flipping through the address book to find Shego's number. She would have talked to her son directly, but for some reason, Drakken's cell phone never seemed to pick up her calls. Claudia held the phone a little ways away from her ear as the sound of bad karaoke came through the line.

"Who is it?" asked Shego.

"Shego, honey, this is Claudia. How's your night out?"

A long pause came from the other side of the phone as Claudia waited patiently for an answer.

"Um - pretty good. Why are you calling?"

"I just wanted to let you know that Kim Possible and that Ronald fellow have stopped by at the cottage. You all might want to make sure you get back really late, and use the hidden back entrance in the woods when you do, since I don't know when they'll be leaving or if they'll be keeping an eye on the cottage. Don't want to attract any attention, now do we? And Shego?"

"Yeah?"

"When you tell Drewbie, make it sound like I wanted him to come back early and visit his teen friends. Don't make it sound like I was warning you. Otherwise he'd I know I know, you know?"

"Say what?"

"About his little supervillain hobby. He'd know I knew about it."

"Ooh, right. Gotcha, Mrs. L."

"Have a nice night, dear. See you much later!"

Claudia hung up the phone and left the room, making her way back downstairs where her two teen guests were waiting in the living room. She noticed they were not in the living room, however, and began to look around the ground floor, wondering where they had gone.

"Kimberly, Ronald?" she said. "Where aaare you?"

After a moment of silence, Claudia was a little startled to almost run into Kim Possible, who popped out of the door of an unused study room, Ronald close behind her. "Sorry, Mrs. Lipsky," she said. "We were just looking around. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all."

"Do you know what these things in the study are?"

Kim moved aside to let Claudia glance into the room. She clucked disapprovingly at the mess inside; while she thought she had told Drew to clean all his things out of the cottage and neaten the place up, apparently she had forgotten to check _this_ room, as several pieces of supervillain equipment were lying around in plain view. Didn't he know it made a bad impression when anyone came over and saw a mess, even if they _weren't_ his teen foes?

"That's equipment for my son's radio show," she said. "Things that don't work right anymore. They've been around for a while. Sometimes he likes to drop things off with his mother so his radio offices aren't so cluttered up," laughed Claudia. "Sometimes Drew can be a little inconsiderate, but he's still my boy!"

Kim gave one last look to the bizarre-looking devices inside the study before following Claudia, who motioned for the two teens to follow her back into the living room. She had just heard the oven ding, which meant that the strudel was done. "You two wait right there while I get something yummy," she said. "Don't move a muscle!"

She turned on the television to give them a distraction as she went into the kitchen and took the strudels out of the oven. They were piping hot, and a strange, overwhelming stench emanated from them. She left most of them to cool, but transferred a few onto plates for herself and her guests, adding a fork for each of them before returning to the living room.

"Make sure you use the forks," she said, handing Kimberly and Ronald their plates. "They're still very hot."

Claudia sat down and watched as her guests each sliced off a bite of their strudel, hesitating before bringing it to their lips. They blew on their pieces to cool them down, but Claudia knew the smell was also concerning them. Soon, however, they would be pleasantly surprised. Sure enough, when they each finally took a bite, their expressions changed in an instant from barely-restrained worry to delight.

"Good?"

"Booyah!" said Ron.

Based on the fact that he kept eating, Claudia assumed 'booyah' was a good thing. The boy's pet rat, or whatever it was, had been much less hesitant to grab a bite than his owner. She watched as the little rat finished fanning his burning mouth. Although it took him a little longer to recover from the heat, the rat gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up. Claudia smiled. She still needed to know what Hans and the rest of her family thought of her attempt at strudel, but three votes in favor were a good start.

"Wow," said Ron, "that's a gigantic diamond!"

Claudia beamed with pleasure as Ronald peered more closely at the ring on her hand. She was quite happy with the ring, and she jumped at the opportunity to share the news. "Why thank you," she said. "I just got married recently!"

"Oh yeah? Congratulations!"

"Yes, it was quite romantic. We even met online, if you'd believe that. Technology these days!"

Claudia held her hand up in the air and looked over the obscenely large diamond. It was definitely impressive. Hans didn't need to show her how much he loved her with things like that, but she wasn't going to complain. She noticed Kimberly looking at her a little strangely, as if thinking about something, and Claudia realized that maybe she didn't want to be talking too much about her marriage to a supervillain in front of two of her son's enemies.

"Have you seen – uh – Drew lately?" asked Kim.

"Sorry, dear, but like I told you, my boy's very busy with his radio show. I haven't seen him for a while now. I suppose I should pay a visit soon!"

"Maybe you should do that tonight," suggested Kim. "And take us along."

"Oh, I would, but I'm very busy," said Claudia.

"Hmm. How about tomorrow?"

"I'm going to be busy for weeks."

"Um – okay. Do you know if he's been hanging out with a friend of his named Frugal Lucre?"

"I don't think so. I remember him mentioning someone with that name that he met while he was in prison – those silly radio indecency laws, let me tell you! Drewbie said he really hated the man. I don't think they'd ever spend time together."

"Gotcha. What about Eddie Lipsky, by the way? Do you see him much?"

"Why, you two know a lot about my family! You and Drewbie must be great friends."

"You could say that," said Kim.

"I bailed Eddie out of jail recently. It's a little embarrassing – I guess my family gets into a lot of trouble with the law sometimes, but they all have good hearts. Especially my Drewbie. He helps people on his radio show, you know!"

"Is that right. Um, do you know what Eddie has been up to lately?"

"I don't know, Eddie likes his privacy. He's probably in New Jersey! Now, I hope you two don't mind, but I'm getting a little bit sleepy. Did you have anything else you wanted to ask me about Drew?"

"No," said Kim, "I guess that's it. Thanks for the hospitality, Mrs. Lipsky."

"Not at all. I'll be sure to let Drewbie know you two stopped by next time I see him."

"Oh, that's not necessary. We'll catch him some other time."

Claudia ushered the two teens to the door and waved goodbye as they left in a very fancy looking car. Certainly nicer than anything she and Ken had bought their little boy back in the day. She returned to the living room and sat down, picking up her knitting and resuming the work of making a comfy sweater for her son.

She thought about her two visitors as the television droned on in front of her. They were both very nice kids, she thought. But she didn't want them getting her Drew in trouble when she was in the middle of getting the family back together again. She had made some progress when she brought Drew's cousin Eddie back from jail to stay with him, and now that there was a new father figure for the two of them to look up to, she had high hopes.

The boys needed a father figure. One thing they _didn't_ need was interruptions.

It was a shame that her Drewbie always had to be messing around with crazy schemes and getting himself into trouble; she often wished Drew could pursue different things in his life, like an _actual_ radio show. But her son was special. He always went his own way, no matter what anybody thought, and she supposed what people did with their lives and why they made the choices they made was always complicated. In the end, just like she had accepted her new husband, she had to accept her son. For better or for worse.


	12. Tell Me About Your Father

**Tell Me About Your Father**

XX

The night had passed uneventfully, which didn't really do much to calm Drakken's nerves. Instead of sleeping in his bedroom in the cottage, he had spent most of the evening awake down in his lair, keeping an eye on security cameras and monitoring systems to make sure his teen foes didn't catch him by surprise. Last night, after Shego had told him in the karaoke club that his mother had called to say Kim Possible and her sidekick were visiting the cottage, Drakken had been certain that the jig was up.

And he didn't even know what the jig was!

His plan with Frugal Lucre had failed, and Dementor _still_ hadn't filled him in on any details of what he was going to do with the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer. If those teens were visiting the cottage, however, that did not bode well for him, or for Dementor. Fortunately it sounded like his mother hadn't given much away, even unwittingly, and careful questioning had convinced him that his mother had not been stupid enough to let them down into the 'radio station' itself. The other good news was that Kim Possible hadn't returned after her brief visit to the cottage, which suggested that his teen foe didn't have anything solid against him yet. Otherwise, they'd be crashing through an air vent and invading his personal privacy at this very moment.

"You are still awake?"

Drakken looked up from where he had been dozing off in front of a security monitor in his command room. Dementor had just walked in to get a check up on whether or not their lair was facing imminent teen invasion. The two of them had both been keeping an eye out after they returned to the lair via the back entrance late last night; it was funny how teen foes could unite Drakken with his hated stepfather, at least briefly. Although, once it had become clear that Kim, her sidekick, and Global Justice weren't converging on their location, Dementor had left to go to bed upstairs, leaving him alone to keep an eye on things. _How selfish_, he thought.

"Vat is it? Are de teens coming?"

"No, they are not. But I need to speak with you, Dementor."

"Dat is great! I vould love to speak with you, mine son. Did you reconsider my offer last night - is it about de birds and de bees zat you wish to speak?"

"No, for the love of – no, not the birds and the bees. Ugh! I want to know about your little plan with the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer. And I want to know what you've been doing when you're been slinking off to 'work' with your business suit and briefcase and slicked-back hair. You keep pretending like you're my new father-"

"I _am_ your father, Drakken."

"Whatever! The point is, if you want to play that part, you've been doing an unconvincing job of it. Hiding your scheme from me, like I'm the enemy? How do you explain that?"

"You vere the one who had no interest in vat I was doing. You had your own scheme, with de Frugal Lucre. Remind me again how _dat_ worked out, by the way?"

Drakken gritted his teeth at the low blow, but plowed onwards in his goal. "Perhaps both of us weren't open about it, but no matter! If you're going to take over my lair and mock my personal privacy, the least you can do is let me in on your plan. Two heads are better than one, after all! And if we want to take over the world, we can't be delaying it anymore – if those teens were visiting the cottage last night, they've caught a whiff of some evildoing. So we'd better do that evil even faster!"

As Drakken finished his pitch, Dementor gave him a long, silent look. To Drakken, it was almost as if his foe was weighing him up. Considering whether or not he could be trusted.

Finally, Dementor nodded in assent and motioned for Drakken to follow him. He got up from his seat, where he had been sitting most of the night. Pins and needles stabbed through his legs, which had fallen asleep quite a while ago. He was surprisingly excited to follow Dementor through the winding passages of his subterranean lair; there was a possibility that the man's plan might actually be a good one. Probably not as good as Drakken's usual plans, but hopefully it would be interesting. And Drakken could always take it for himself if he got the chance. He should have looked into it earlier, but he had been too concerned with trying to get his own plan off the ground first.

As they made their way through the lair, the two of them passed by a variety of henchmen; some belonged to Drakken, some to Dementor. He was a little unnerved to see how much his own henchmen seemed to be mingling with those of his enemy. Although it was the weekend, he had kept his henchmen on the payroll in order to keep an eye on Dementor and his group. But the more Drakken saw, the more he wondered if they were keeping an eye on _anything_. The two of them reached a laboratory in a corner of the underground lair, and Dementor pulled out a key card, which he slid through a slot reader by the side of the door. It opened with a whoosh of air, and the two of them walked in.

"Wait a minute!" said Drakken. "What was that? You have a key card for _my_ lair?"

"Yes. How else vould I make mine way around down here?"

Drakken grumbled, wondering which of his incompetent henchmen had allowed _that_. Now that he thought about it, Shego had probably done it just to annoy him. As he followed Dementor through the laboratory, his irritation turned to shock. His lairs were usually a little on the large side, and sometimes Drakken had a room or two he didn't use all that often, but clearly he had not been paying enough attention lately; Dementor had filled this particular room with his own equipment, and a variety of gray-suited henchmen were milling about, hard at work. Drakken even noticed several of his own henchmen among them.

"Here it is," said Dementor. "De Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer!"

The two of them had arrived in the center of the room, where a group of henchmen were gathered in a group. Drakken pushed them aside and peered into the glass testing chamber around which they were gathered. Sure enough, the Vortex Inducer was inside, suspended in some kind of vacuum.

"It is dere for de safekeeping," said Dementor. "It is removed when we vant to modify it."

"Modify?"

"Indeed. After I reversed engineered de Vortex Inducer, ve figured out how to add a remote detonation mechanism to it. Now, I do not have to be anyvere NEAR de Inducer to set it off! It is a weapon of de ULTIMATE DESTRUCTION!"

"Why do you need a remote detonator on it?" asked Drakken.

"Good question, mine son. You vanted to know vere I keep going to work all de time – I haf been going to ze Middleton Space Center, where I recently used forged documentation and mine numerous contacts and persuasive abilities to become an intern! As a matter of fact, I am working under Kim Possible's father. It is HILARIOUS!"

Drakken's eyes grew wide. This _did_ sound interesting.

"Soon, de Middleton Space Center vill be launching a rocket to de moon as their latest project, und I have been directly involved in de process. De Vortex Inducer will be added to de rocket right under their noses, de rocket will be launched to de moon, at which point I will have de ability to destroy it unless all world leaders step down and cede their power to ME!"

"Wait, what happens if you actually destroy the moon?" asked Drakken.

"I haf no idea. Probably bad things with de tides, something like that. Less light at night, too. People would be utterly unable to ride their bikes after dark."

Drakken rubbed his hands together enthusiastically and giggled at the thought of Dementor's plan in action. He had to admit it was better than his internet bikini sex bomb virus, or whatever he had called it – he had already forgotten – and the fact that James Possible was involved sweetened the deal. Drakken's old classmate would be _humiliated_ if Dementor pulled off his plan after infiltrating the Middleton Space Center and working with him right under his nose. Of course, Kim Possible wouldn't come out looking too good either.

Although it wasn't his plan, he couldn't help feeling excited about it. For now, maybe he'd be willing to work with Dementor. He could always let his stepfather do the dirty work and then step in at the last minute, anyway. "So when does this plan get off the ground?" he asked.

"Just as soon as de rocket launch at de Middleton Space Center is ready to go," replied Dementor. "Right now, it iz scheduled for de next week, probably Tuesday. It is possible I could pull it off myself, but I must admit, James Possible is an expert with de rockets, and his expertise vill be useful to keep things smooth until the last moment. Waiting until de day of de scheduled liftoff vill also ease suspicion."

"Tuesday?" said Drakken. "I just hope Kim Possible and the buffoon don't interrupt us before then. We should carry out the plan as quickly as possible, now that they seem to know something is up."

Dementor laid a hand condescendingly on Drakken's back. "Do not worry, I have everything under mine control. Dis plan is FOOLPROOF! Und besides, ve have something else to do this veekend zat is very important, especially if we vant to take over de world together."

Drakken narrowed his eyes, sensing that Dementor was about to tell him something he wouldn't like. "What is that?" he asked.

"Your mother und I have been doing much of de talking lately - I think you and I haf been getting closer, making de progress, but we decided we could use an extra step to make us more uber as a family. Professional help! Today, ve shall go see a FAMILY THERAPIST!"

And there it was.

The cold hand of fear gripped Drakken's throat as he thought about how uncomfortable a visit to a therapist could end up. _Especially_ if Shego came along. It was true that he thought of her as a part of his evil family, but Drakken wasn't sure if that extended to therapy sessions. He noticed some of the henchmen gathered around him repressing snorts of laughter at what Dementor had just said. Drakken would have yelled at them for their insubordination, but at the moment, he was too busy dreading the horrors looming on his horizon.

XX

Other than a lone receptionist, they were the only people in the lobby of the Share & Care Family Therapy building, but Drakken still felt like he was naked and exposed. Like humiliation was lurking just around the corner. He sat on a couch, wedged between Dementor and his mother, and looked at the motivational posters plastered up around the family therapy office's lobby, wondering what he had done in his life that was so wrong that he deserved this kind of punishment. Other than the many obvious things, of course.

His halfhearted complaints had been useless against Dementor's obstinacy and his mother's cheery insistence that he go along with their plans. Shego, of course, was very open to the idea, as it was an opportunity for her to enjoy a little schadenfreude as her boss writhed, caught in an awkward family situation. At this very moment, she was sitting in a chair across from a reading table and smirking at him. His cousin Eddie sat beside her in another chair. Eddie had seemed genuinely excited to go to a family therapy session, and not just to make fun of Drakken.

"Lipsky family?" asked the receptionist, holding her hand against some kind of listening device attached to her ear. "The doctor is ready to see you now."

Drakken reluctantly got up from his seat on the couch, following his mother and stepfather's example. Hearing the receptionist refer to the family therapist as 'doctor' grated on him – as if just _anyone_ earned the right to use such a title. Not that Drakken himself had actually completed his path to a PhD, technically speaking, but that was irrelevant. His mother had apparently talked with Dementor about setting up an appointment at Share & Care, which was a place in Middleton that she had visited in the past, although Drakken couldn't remember ever visiting it before.

All he knew was that he didn't want to share, and he _certainly_ didn't care.

Drakken followed his mother and stepfather into the so-called doctor's office. The doctor in question stood in the middle of the room, her arms outstretched in a friendly gesture. Drakken wasn't sure if she wanted a hug or not, but he avoided her, just in case. Hugging strangers was a little weird. "Welcome to the sharing room, everyone!" she said. "My name is Doctor Liz. Of course I already know who you are, Claudia! Come here and give me a hug, you old bag!"

Drakken and Shego shared a skeptical glance as his mother gave the therapist a hug. He wondered what his mother had visited a family therapist for in the past if he had never been along - although, having an inkling of what the answer might be, he didn't want to dwell on it. He looked around the room, a little surprised at the décor; unlike the clean, antiseptic feel of the lobby, Doctor Liz's office was covered in soft carpeting and garish wallpaper with some kind of vague fuzzy animal motif. The office was dim, and other than a little sun coming through the drawn blinds of a single window, it was lit mainly by a number of candles sitting on various chairs and tables around the edges of the room. The overall effect should have been calming, but Drakken felt anything but calm.

"Please, everyone," said Doctor Liz, "take a seat!"

"Where?" asked Shego.

"Oh, on the floor. I find it's much more comfortable."

Drakken considered removing a few candles from a nearby chair, but decided to sit down along with everyone else instead of drawing attention to himself. Doctor Liz joined the circle, shaking everyone's hand and getting their names. After the introductions were finished, she settled into a cross-legged position and looked over her clients. "Now," she said, "Claudia, you told me you think the Lipsky family needs to iron out a few issues that started when you and Hans got married?"

"That's right," said Claudia as Dementor wrapped an arm lovingly around her. "I want us to be a family, but I think our little Drewbie is having some trouble getting adjusted. I thought it would help to talk about things!"

"Well, let's start with you and Hans. When did you two first meet?"

"We met online," said Claudia as Dementor nodded in agreement.

Drakken tried not to roll his eyes, and a faint smiled threatened to creep across Shego's face.

"I wanted to get back into the dating game," his mother continued, "and Hans had a little profile up. We really hit it off, and Hans even bought me plane tickets so I could visit him at his radio station over in the Alps. It was so romantic, and Hans was such a charming young man-"

"Younger than me," Drakken muttered in irritation.

The rest of the group turned their heads at the sound of his interruption, creating a brief vacuum of awkward silence before his mother continued. "We had a wonderful time on my visits, and sometimes he'd come visit me here in the States. Things went pretty fast, and when Hans' radio station got blown up in a tragic equipment failure, we got engaged and talked about moving in with Drewbie here and starting a family!

"Yes," agreed Hans. "Dat equipment. It vas quite de equipment failure. Total destruction."

Doctor Liz got up from her cross-legged seat on the floor and walked over to her desk, grabbing a clipboard and pen before she returned to the little circle in the center of her office. She tapped the pen against her lower lip as she looked thoughtfully at Dementor. "I take it that, like Claudia, you want Drew to see you as a father figure?"

"Of course."

"You know that will take time."

"Yes, yes," said Dementor, waving a hand dismissively.

"Were you happy when you found out Claudia had a child? Is that what you wanted?"

"Yes, I haf always vanted de children. To start a family of mine own, with de little Hanses running around and playing, but I never had de time because of mine job. It is very hard to engage in de super – ah, de radio business, and also find someone to have de children with. But ven Claudia and I met online, it vas love at first type!"

"You said you were in the radio business?" she asked.

"Dat is correct."

"And you are as well, Drew?"

Drakken nodded.

"Do you think that causes any tension between the two of you?"

"Indeed," they answered simultaneously.

"Why is that? Just a sense of professional competition? Because it seems like that could be a point where the two of you could bond – you have a common interest, after all."

"De competition is a big part of it," said Dementor. "Drew believes dat I married his mother und moved into his cottage and radio station in order to take over his radio show, or somehow sabotage his operations. But it iz not true! I told him details of mine _own_ radio show earlier, to build de trust, and I married Claudia because I truly love her! It is TRUE LOVE I TELL YOU!"

"We believe you," said Doctor Liz. "Is this true, Drew? Do you not trust him?"

Drakken crossed his arms and grumbled petulantly.

"Trust is a very important thing in any relationship, especially when it's new and unfamiliar. I think that could be part of the problem. Ooh, I have an idea!" said Doctor Liz, clapping her hands together with excitement. "Let's do some trust exercises! Everyone get up from the floor!"

"But this carpet's so comfy!" said Eddie. "Didn't we, like, _just_ sit down? I mean, seriously!"

Despite Eddie's protests, the group got up and gathered around as Doctor Liz began to give them their trust exercise instructions. "Here's what we'll do," she said, "pair off into groups. One of you will fall backwards, and the other will stand and catch their partner. It's a classic! And it'll be a good way to warm things up a little."

Drakken thought the idea was ridiculous, and he could tell that Shego was in agreement. His parents – and his cousin, strangely enough – seemed to be enthusiastic about the idea. Eddie had apparently already forgotten all the hassle of having to stand up from the nice office carpet. Drakken found himself paired with Shego first, who stood in front of Drakken and put one hand impatiently on her hip.

"Come on Doctor D, let's get this junk over with. This is a lot less fun than I thought it would be."

"Not so eager to attend my embarrassing family events _now_, are you Shego?"

"Just fall over already."

Drakken turned around so he couldn't see his partner and steeled himself to fall. His first inclination was to think these trust tests were a waste of time – fluffy things that someone like Doctor Liz did to make it look like she knew what she was talking about – but then again, he remembered Hank Perkins making some of his henchmen engage in some of the same exercises, and they had certainly performed better as a result. Maybe, thought Drakken, he shouldn't be so dismissive. And with Shego as his partner, trust wasn't a big question anyway. She was his right hand woman, after all. He could always count on her to have his back. He closed his eyes and let himself fall backwards.

If it wasn't for the thick carpeting, his head would have made quite a loud smack on the office floor.

"Haha! That was awesome, Doctor D. Good one!"

"Shego," admonished Claudia, "that wasn't nice at all! Apologize to Drewbie."

"Er, sorry about that, _Drewbie_."

Although he was angry, Drakken accepted the hand that Shego offered to help him up. Doctor Liz forced them to switch places, and even stood and watched to make sure Shego turned around and went through with the trust exercise. Drakken was surprised that Shego was about to let herself fall backwards and trust Drakken after what she had done, but then again, he knew that he'd be in for a lot of pain if he tried to repeat her little joke. Some things didn't go both ways. She fell backwards, and Drakken promptly caught her in his arms.

"Oooh, you two are so cute together!"

Hearing Doctor Liz's cooing comment, Shego quickly disengaged herself from Drakken's embrace.

"Switch partners!"

Shego left Drakken to look for another partner – while it looked like she was going to try matching up with Claudia, Eddie quickly stepped in her path and gave her a winning smile and a flick of his mullet. Shego groaned, but Doctor Liz nodded her head and watched the two of them carefully. "Come on!" said Eddie. "You gotta trust in the mullet, babe!"

Shego fell into Eddie's arms, and even before it happened, Drakken could tell there would be trouble. His cousin must have held onto her a little too long after catching her, because a flash of bright green energy sent him flying across the room and smashing into Doctor Liz's desk, which didn't seem to make _her_ too happy. Drakken wondered what that result meant, exactly. Did Shego trust Eddie, or not? Either way, he was a little disappointed to no longer have Shego as a partner, as that meant his only remaining choices were his mother and Dementor. Sure enough, Dementor got to him first. The man stretched out his arms, his face plastered with an insufferable grin.

"You must trust me," he said. "I told you about de details of mine latest radio show, did I not? Fall into mine arms. JUST DO IT!"

Drakken looked at his stepfather's outstretched arms with trepidation. Not just his stepfather, but his arch enemy, at least until recently. Unless they were still arch enemies. He had to admit that Dementor sounded genuine when he talked about wanting a son, and when he talked about being in love with Drakken's mother, as much as that made him want to retch. And Dementor had definitely been trying to do the father and son activities. It was a lot of effort when the man had already essentially won. Would his foe really go to the length of marrying his mother just to take over his lair? Now that Drakken thought about it, it _did_ seem like a bit of a roundabout way to defeat one's enemy.

Maybe, just maybe, he needed to take a leap of faith.

"You can do it, Drew!" said Dementor.

Drakken tried to ignore the annoyingly familiar way in which Dementor used his name. He closed his eyes and folded his arms over each other, bringing his feet closer together. This didn't mean he was accepting Dementor or anything. It was just so they could get this silly exercise over with - that was all. He put his trust in Dementor, and let himself fall backwards.

"I haf got you!" said Dementor.

Drakken felt the man's arms around his sides, supporting him.

He righted himself, a little surprised that Dementor hadn't let him drop like Shego did. It was time for them to switch places, so this time Drakken positioned himself with arms outstretched, ready to catch Dementor when he fell. The stocky man turned around as Doctor Liz watched the two of them, his back facing his old enemy. Several moments passed as Drakken and the therapist waited. Dementor stood silently, but did not move. Nothing seemed to be happening. After a moment, Doctor Liz wrote something on the clipboard.

"What's wrong?" she asked Dementor.

"It is just dat I am a little tiny bit on de short side," he said. "I am worried dat Drakken vill fail to grab me because of the size difference."

"I don't think that's likely," said Doctor Liz. "He's ready to catch you."

The others had finished their exercises, and joined the therapist to watch. Dementor looked at each of them for a moment before turning back around to face Drakken and Doctor Liz. "I am sorry," he said. "It is just, I am nervous about de falling. It is a personal fear of mine."

Drakken let his arms fall again as his mother gave Dementor a comforting pat on the back. Doctor Liz made another note on the clipboard and gave a little sigh of resignation. "Ah well," she said. "I think that's enough of the trust exercises for now. We did a good job though, don't you think?"

"I think we did wonderfully!" bubbled Claudia.

"Yeah," said Shego. "Totally great."

"Righteous! Seriously!"

"Let's all sit back down in the circle and talk a little more," said Doctor Liz.

"Right on, babe!"

The group sat down again as Doctor Liz turned to Claudia. "Do you think there are any other problems that might be causing friction between the Lipsky family?" she said. "Specifically, between Drew and his stepfather?"

Claudia nodded gravely, and the group leaned forward a little more to hear what she was about to say.

"What problems?" asked the therapist.

"I think it might be good to talk about Drew's father," said Claudia. "His _biological_ father."

The room grew silent, and Drakken felt the strange sensation that everyone was now paying attention to him, as if they were waiting for him to agree or disagree with Claudia. He definitely did _not_ agree.

"We don't have to do that, mother."

"Don't you think it would be good for you, Drew? Maybe we could get things out in the open."

Doctor Liz turned expectantly to Drakken. "You don't have to talk about anything if you don't want to," she said, "but I've often discovered that rocky relationships with the stepfather can be due to unresolved issues between the son and his biological father. It might be helpful to talk about it. Maybe you could tell us a little bit about your father?"

"He was a police officer," said Drakken. "There isn't much to tell. We never saw eye to eye, and we were never close. Different interests, I suppose."

"That's not entirely true, Drew," said Claudia.

"What does your mother mean?"

Drakken folded his arms defensively. "I don't know."

"Your father had no interest in the radio business?"

"No, he did _not_. I didn't get into the radio business until after - until much later, after college. As I said, we never shared much together. He was very busy with his job."

"But Drewbie, you _did_ start to bond with him a little bit, didn't you?"

Drakken was silent.

"What is your mother talking about? When did you start to bond with your father?"

He knew what his mother was getting at, but he hadn't really planned on talking about it to anyone, much less to an entire group of people that included a strange therapist and Dementor. But then, his real father _had_ been on his mind lately. A looming shadow that he didn't want to think about, didn't want to deal with, and yet it was always there. _He_ was always there, even if he had never really been there. At least not until the end.

That was probably why his mother had brought them to the therapy session in the first place, beyond trying to strengthen the bond between her son and husband. Drakken wondered if it was best to get it over with. The subject of his father had already been hovering at the edges of his thoughts ever since Dementor showed up at the cottage and tried to force himself into the role. Maybe it _was_ best to try to address it, after all this time. The group waited with anticipation, and Drakken tried to ignore their looks as he thought about where to start. Doctor Liz wanted to know when things had changed. Drakken remembered what had set it all off.

"I was in college," he said. "At the Middleton Institute of Science and Technology. I had a roommate named James Possible."

"You mean the father of that talented young teen crime fighter, Kim Possible?"

Drakken and Dementor both shot Doctor Liz an irritated glare. Talented was definitely not the right word. "Yes," he snapped. "_That_ James Possible."

"Sorry. Please continue."

Drakken nodded and cleared his throat. "As I was saying, James and I were roommates, and while our relationship was rocky at best, we had been working on a certain prank to get initiated into a student group, the Society of Engineers. That wasn't really either of our ideas – Bob Chen and Ramesh wanted to do that, not us."

"Bob Chen and Ramesh?"

"A couple of our friends at the time. But anyway, we went along with it. Chen and Ramesh wanted to do something safe, but James and I knew we had to make a big statement. Our prank involved a certain lab rat and a high-tech cybertronic battlesuit, and things had just gone very wrong..."


	13. Drew Gets Suspended

**Drew Gets Suspended**

XX

Things did _not_ look good at the science building.

Judging by the fact that half of the front of the building had collapsed in on itself, Pinky Joe Curly Tail had probably just come through in his cybertronic battlesuit. How things had gone wrong so quickly, Drew had no idea. Well, he did – it was all _James'_ fault.

They had built the battlesuit so it could be operated by a human pilot, and tonight, on the night of the science mixer, they had decided to stop by the townhouse where they were living now and bring the robot around for a little spectacle for their fellow students. He and James had pulled pranks on campus in the past, but nothing on this scale. They both knew it would infuriate Dean Barker, which would be amusing, and not only that, but the Society of Engineers required a demonstration of their scientific and engineering knowledge to get in. Drew didn't really want to get in, but since Bob and Ramesh had been insisting that the four of them join, this would have been a good opportunity to show off their skills. Especially since most everyone in the Society of Engineers would probably be attending the science mixer.

Unfortunately, James just _had_ to have a bright idea about rescuing that little lab rat.

"I can't believe you modified the battlesuit so that a lab rat could pilot it," snapped Drew.

James threw his hands over his head. "It was just an experiment! Where's your scientific curiosity! And I'd say I was obviously successful, considering that thing has been all over campus already."

"Yes, well, it was only successful because of the incredible job I did on the battlesuit."

"The incredible job _you_ did?"

Drew rolled his eyes; his friend was always trying to claim credit for everything, but it was true - he _had_ done most of the work on the battlesuit himself. Other than modifying it to accept a completely uncontrollable rodent pilot, James really hadn't done anything all that significant. And as far as Drew was concerned, the more astounding success was not the rodent pilot, but the working plasma blasters. That had been his little secret addition, and judging by the orange-red streaks of plasma fire arcing over the campus in the distance, they were passing the test with flying colors.

"James! Drew!"

Bob and Ramesh's voices came from beyond the rubble where the wall had collapsed. Drew was glad; maybe he hadn't been close to Bob and Ramesh lately, but they were still his friends, technically, and he was happy to hear they were safe. Even if they had been laughing for about five minutes straight after his failed attempt to make all of them robot girlfriends for the science mixer. They were friends, yes – just not remotely appreciative ones, that was for sure. Drew put that humiliating incident out of his mind as he and James crawled over some of the rubble, making their way inside the ballroom that had been the scene of the science mixer until Pinky Joe and his battlesuit had torn through it.

"Glad to see you two are alright!" said James.

"Yes indeed, said Ramesh. "It was very fortunate that absolutely no one was harmed when half the science building seemed to collapse around us! It was almost as if we were in some kind of television show."

Most of the ballroom had cleared out in the aftermath of the collapse – when Drew and James had been running towards the building earlier, they had seen a stream of their fellow students running past, covered in dust and debris, looking wild-eyed as they rambled on about a giant robot with a killer mouse inside.

Other than Bob and Ramesh, Anne McMann was inside helping a few last straggling students get out of the building – she wasn't a MIST student, but she was taking a couple of classes here that they didn't offer over at Upperton University. Specifically, she was in the Introduction to Computational Methods of Nanobiotechnology class that Drew was taking with James. His friend definitely had a crush on her, although James was in denial about it. But James had never been very smooth with the ladies. Not like Drew. Not that Drew had the time to be smooth, with works of genius like the battlesuit taking up all of his time, but if he wasn't so busy with his constant inventing...

He was a little surprised to see Anne at the mixer, actually, since he remembered her saying something about not attending. Maybe she had been hoping to see James. He was even more surprised to see someone else at the science mixer, however – Miss Anne Thrope, their Nanobiotechnology teacher. Normally Miss Thrope seemed to hate the very existence of her students. Attending an after-class event with them seemed truly bizarre. Anne brushed back her flaming red hair at the sight of James and Drew, while Miss Thrope stood implacably with her beefy arms crossed over each other.

"What are you two doing here?" asked James, sharing Drew's surprise as he stared at the two women.

"I'm obligated by the Science Department to attend this event," said Miss Thrope.

Anne stuttered out her response. "I, um – I just thought I'd stop by the party and see what was going on."

Drew smirked. Definitely a two-way crush. Even if neither of them would admit it.

"Possible, Lipsky" said Miss Thrope, "are you two responsible for this?"

James quaked in fear at the sight of Miss Thrope staring him down. Drew couldn't blame him – the woman was built like a quarterback, and while she wasn't constantly hounding them outside of class like Dean Barker, she could definitely be nasty when she wanted to be. His friend was too afraid to answer, so Drew stepped forward and took charge. "Yes," he said. "We both created the battlesuit, although James made the mistake of modifying it to be piloted by a lab rat."

Miss Thrope's eyes bugged out as the two of them waited for an answer.

"What?"

"That was my reaction, too," said Drew. "But don't worry, Miss Thrope. I have a plan!"

"And what plan is that?"

The gears in Drew's mind had been churning ever since he and James slipped away from Dean Barker's grasp and ran off in pursuit of the cybertronic battlesuit's path of destruction. They needed to stop Pinky Joe Curly Tail, and fast – before long, the entire campus would be demolished. Although Drew had to admit that the sight of all that destruction gave him a strange thrill. He had been concerned at first, mostly for his friends at the science mixer, but now that he could see they were alright, he couldn't help looking at the wreckage around them and thinking about the battlesuit's awesome power. He and James – mostly just he – had built it. All that power, all that potential, springing from the fertile depths of his mind, molded by his own two hands!

But still, the battlesuit needed to be stopped. That went without saying.

"Here's what we'll do..."

XX

Finally, after what seemed like half an hour of rooting around, Drew found it.

"Right here, James!"

His friend's head popped comically up from behind a number of unassembled drainage pipes stacked in a heap. The two of them had been looking through a construction site right on the edge of campus, next to a big parking lot, hoping to find something that just might stop Pinky Joe's path of wanton destruction. Drew had to use both hands to pick up the surprisingly heavy coil of metal cable; as James bounded over, the two of them grinned at the find.

"That's got to do it," said James.

"We'll just have to see. This way!"

Drew led his friend out of the construction site and into the adjacent parking lot. The two of them had run off from the science building to find the metal cabling – Anne, Bob, and Ramesh had run in the opposite direction, towards a dining hall where they were hoping to find some cheesy bait for Pinky Joe – as well as Pinky Joe himself, who was off in that direction piloting his battlesuit.

Hopefully their friends would leave Drew and James enough time to set up their trap. This was not the ideal way of stopping the battlesuit – flipping its manual killswitch would have been more reliable, albeit much more dangerous, as one of them would have to leap onto the moving battlesuit and access the back. Unfortunately, Drew had noticed earlier that the access panel hiding the battlesuit's killswitch was dented and caved inwards, maybe when it had crashed against the wall of some building. It was unlikely they'd be able to pry that loose. Which meant this cable was their best hope, unless the police happened to have an RPG or two. But with that lab rat inside, he doubted James would like approve of anybody firing explosives at his little rodent friend.

The two of them hefted the roll of metal cabling over a guardrail lining one side of the parking lot, and then passed through the first row of cars as they made their way in. The cabling was very heavy, so the two of them both held onto one end of it as they carried it along. James, fumbling with the weight, smacked it into several cars. Drew flinched; some of their fellow students would be unhappy when they came to drive home from their evening classes. Before long, they found a promising spot in the lot. It was a lane between two rows of cars, and big light posts sprang up on either side of the lane. Drew took one end of the metal cable and began unspooling it, passing the other end to James, who ran to the other side. They fastened their ends to the bases of the parking lot poles, stretching the metal line taut so it formed a tripwire which went across the lane at about the level of a person's head.

Of course, to a cybertronic battlesuit, it was just about ankle-level.

"Let's go!" said James. "We have to catch them and lead them here!"

"Yes, I know that," said Drew. "I'm the one who made up this plan, remember?"

James ignored him and headed off, winding between the rows of cars towards a guardhouse that kept watch over the parking lot's front gate. Long before they got there, however, they saw the drunkenly shifting headlights of a car hurtling through the campus, just ahead of the parking lot. Behind it – and not far behind, either – they saw the cybertronic battlesuit in hot pursuit. That _had_ to be Anne, Bob, or Ramesh, leading Pinky Joe right where they wanted him.

The two of them kept heading towards the front of the sprawling lot, but stopped dead in their tracks as they saw the car smash through the gates and, seconds later, get hit by a stray plasma blast from Pinky Joe. There was an explosive sound, although Drew didn't see any fire – and then, a second later, a screech of metal on metal as the car crashed sideways into a row of parked vehicles. James looked like he was about to faint, but Drew spurred him on as the two of them ran the rest of the way to the crash.

"Anne!" yelled James. "Are you alright?"

Just as they got there, however, they saw Anne helping Bob and Ramesh out of the back seat. Drew frowned when he realized Anne had been driving the car. Women drivers; no wonder they got into a crash! James almost ran into her as he skidded to a halt, looking like he was about to embrace her in a hug before he stopped awkwardly. Drew rolled his eyes. Still in denial.

"Took you long enough!" said Drew.

"I don't know if you noticed," snapped Anne, "but our tire got blown out by one of your plasma blasters, _Drew_."

Drew pointed to James. "It was both our ideas, not just mine!"

Anne pointed behind her. "He's right over-"

"Believe me," said James, "I noticed the giant battlesuit. This way!"

The group headed farther into the lot, twisting and turning as they passed rows of cars. Another laser flew by overhead – just as Drew had suspected, Pinky Joe was pursuing them closely, hemmed in by the rows of cars. He had been hoping that the parking lot would remind the lab rat of the mazes those psych students always sent him through over in the science labs on campus, and his theory seemed to be working. Before long, they reached the spot in the lot where they had stretched the metal tripwire between the two lamp posts.

"Anne, duck!"

James shouted to Anne as they reached the cable. Considering the battlesuit's rapidly closing distance, they didn't want to slow down, so all of them ducked down while running to avoid being clotheslined by the cable. Drew motioned for them all to hide on either side of the lane, behind the parked cars. James, however, stayed out in the lane.

"What are you doing?" yelled Drew.

"Pinky Joe should recognize me. Hopefully, I can lead him right to the tripwire!"

James shouted and waved his hands as the battlesuit approached; Drew flinched as a laser streaked past his friend, blasting a hole into the parking lot pavement. The lumbering footsteps of the battlesuit grew louder, stomping towards them, and Drew risked a peek over the truck he was using for cover – yes, there it was. Although he and his friends were in danger, he couldn't help feeling a rush of adrenaline. This had been a lot of fun, all things considered. Maybe releasing it in campus was a bad idea, especially when he was already on such thin ice with Dean Barker, but still – he was amazed more of his fellow students _didn't_ do things like this.

Bob and Ramesh had run to the other side of the lane, and Drew was crouched in his hiding spot beside Anne as the two of them waited for the battlesuit to pass. "Isn't this exciting?" he asked her.

"I think you and I have different definitions of exciting."

Bob and Ramesh were hidden behind a car on the other side of the road, but James was still standing out in the open. He waved his arms as the battlesuit approached, jumping up and down to get Pinky Joe's attention before beginning to back up, just in case the tripwire he had set out with Drew didn't work.

Fortunately, it worked perfectly.

The battlesuit lumbered forward, its legs hitting the metal cable. For just a moment, Drew thought the cable would snap – and if that thing went flying back and whipped across him or Anne, they'd probably be done for. But it didn't. One of the battlesuit's legs rose up, catching the cable on its metal foot, and as the weight of the chassis shifted, the battlesuit leaned inexorably forward until it finally toppled towards the ground. It hit the parking lot pavement, the cockpit window breaking and scattering shards of glass out over the asphalt.

"Pinky Joe!"

James rushed to the fallen battlesuit. Drew, Anne, Bob, and Ramesh emerged from behind the cars they had been using for cover while they hid. Drew was about to whoop in excitement at their plan's success, but for some reason the atmosphere seemed sombre – James was terrified that his pet rat might be hurt, and Anne, Bob, and Ramesh seemed to be sharing his worry. Drew grunted in exasperation. He didn't know what was the big deal about the little lab rat, but he supposed his friend cared about it, for some reason.

"Pinky Joe Curly Tail!" yelled James, getting to his feet as he looked into the cockpit, crushed against the ground. "Pinky Joe, are you in there?"

James was on his hands and knees, trying to peer under the partially crushed pilot's window of the battlesuit, but he didn't have to wait long. A few squeaks came out from beneath the wreckage, and a second later, Pinky Joe himself emerged, scampering up James' legs until it reached his shoulder and gave him another squeak in greeting. Despite the fact that his friend's lab rat experiment had been the cause of all this mess, Drew couldn't help admitting that it had led to some interesting results. He never would have thought a rodent could pilot a battlesuit. Even if Pinky Joe had been doing it pretty badly.

"I'm so sorry, Pinky Joe," said James. "I didn't know letting you pilot the battlesuit would cause so much trouble!"

Anne looked skeptically at him. "Really? It doesn't seem like _that_ much of a stretch, James."

"Well, I-"

The blaring screech of police sirens interrupted them. Before they knew what was going on, the parking lot seemed to be brimming with cop cars. The sirens blared for a few moments until coming to a stop, and one car drove up right next to the fallen battlesuit. Drew gulped when he realized what was about to happen – he was amazed the Middleton police had taken so long to actually _do_ anything about a rampaging battlesuit, but his dad had always complained about their response time. The only way being surrounded by police officers could be more awkward was if his dad was there – and, sure enough, Drew groaned as his father stepped out of the nearest squad car, along with Chief Brody and another officer. They trained their guns at the battlesuit, which made him snort in amusement. His amusement changed to fear, however, when he noticed someone else come up from behind the officers: Dean Barker.

"Looks like I've got you two now!" he said.

The police officers pointed at the two. "It's them?"

"That's right. The robot is their invention."

"Is that thing disabled?" one the officers asked, pointing a gun at the fallen battlesuit.

Jame gulped. "Yes, sir."

The chief shook his head condescendingly at Drew's father. "Jeez, Ken," he said. "Can't your son stay out of trouble for five minutes?"

"Sorry, Chief Brody."

Drew felt a flush of humiliation. In part because he felt bad for his father, who seemed to be taking abuse from the chief, which Drew knew was not an uncommon occurrence. But it wasn't just that. It was the whole situation. Once again, he had let his father down – and this time in front of all his colleagues.

"I'm afraid we're gonna have to take you two to the station," said Chief Brody. "You're the two responsible for creatin' this battlesuit, right?"

James pointed a finger accusingly at Drew. "It was all his fault!" he yelled. "The plasma blaster, creating the battlesuit – it was all Drew Lipsky's idea. I just went along with it!"

"That's completely untrue!" protested Drew.

"Save it for the station, boys."

James had been pointing at his friend, trying to shift the rightful blame, when, apparently realizing there was no way he could avoid being taken into custody, he grabbed Pinky Joe from off his shoulder and placed him on the ground. The officers stared in confusion, along with Pinky Joe himself, but James pointed off past the parking lot. "Go!" he shouted insistently. "Go, Pinky Joe Curly Tail! Get out of here and enjoy your freedom!"

"You two are comin' with us," said the chief. "Sorry, Ken, but we gotta take your kid into custody."

Ken nodded, looking disappointed, as he took Drew by the hand. The chief took James, and the four of them went back to the squad car, stepping around the fallen battlesuit's metal bulk. Drew got into the back of the car as his father shut the door. He looked out the window for a moment at Bob, Ramesh, and Anne, who were standing and watching, looking like they were in shock.

As the squad car drove away, Drew turned to James and scowled sullenly, but James seemed to be ignoring him. Betrayed by his own friend. What an inglorious end to an otherwise fantastic experiment.

XX

They had been in the jail cell all night. And Carlos was definitely _not_ going to sleep anytime soon.

"Is there something on my nose?" asked Drew.

Carlos, their other cell partner, stared impassively. Drew reflexively brushed at his nose a few times, but there probably wasn't anything there. Carlos had been staring impassively for hours now, after all. It was starting to make Drew feel very nervous, although his friend was in such a bad mood that he didn't noticed their bulky cell mate and his penchant for being really creepy. Their cell was some kind of holding area, not an actual prison cell, as there was no furniture except for a number of benches lining the three walls around the barred entrance. James sat across from him on one of the benches, with Carlos on the other end of the same bench.

" I can't believe you said it was all my fault," snapped Drew.

"It _was_ all your fault. You're the one who put those plasma blasters on the battlesuit."

"You're the one who rescued Pinky Joe so he could pilot the thing!"

"He probably only did a bad job because of your shoddy engineering," said James. "I shouldn't have let you build most of the battlesuit yourself – I mean, look at those Bebes you tried to make as our dates for the science mixer! You can't even stop your robot date from crushing you, so how could I have expected you to make a working battlesuit? You've never been good with robots, Drew."

Drew fumed at his friend's accusation. They both knew perfectly well that the battlesuit had proved itself to be fully operational – just not meant to be piloted by something with a brain the size of a pea! And his Bebes were not the ideal dates, no, but it wasn't like Drew had spent much time on them, seeing the battlesuit had been his main priority ever since their semester started. It had even been James' spur of the moment idea to test it out during the science mixer, so they could have a big audience.

"This whole thing was a bad idea," said James. "I told you from the beginning – maybe it doesn't matter to you because you're still an undergrad, but I haven't been failing classes and falling a year behind on credits and skipping out on my academic career, Drew. I don't need something like this when I just started grad school. Bob and Ramesh were right – we should be shaping up, not fooling around with pranks like this!"

Drew did not respond. James was clearly in denial, seeing as he had been the one to spearhead their little battlesuit shenanigans in the first place. And he didn't see how Bob and Ramesh were right – those two didn't have a single creative spark between them, not like he and James did. They were smart, yes, but they were destined for some kind of office job, pushing papers and working as part of some team where they'd never get the proper credit for their work. That wasn't what Drew wanted. And until recently, Drew didn't think that was what James wanted, either.

"There's no way we're going to join the Society of Engineers after that," complained James.

"Why do you even _want_ to join them? None of them have anything to offer us!"

"Come on, Drew, what about the future? We can't be spending the rest of our lives in jail cells!"

"You don't have to if you don't get caught," said Drew with a smirk.

James rolled his eyes. "What, you're planning on becoming a career criminal?"

Drew fell silent, trying to ignore James' insult. He was just making a retort – it wasn't meant to be taken literally. Still, it was a strange feeling, sitting in this cell. One of the same cells Drew had seen years ago, when his dad was giving him a little tour of the Middleton Police Station. While he had once looked through the bars from the outside, here he was, a prisoner. A criminal, probably. Looking out of those bars from the inside.

He didn't consider himself a criminal, though. Not really. What had he done wrong? It was unlikely anyone was hurt – it would take a simpleton not to hear that battlesuit's loud stomps, and his plasma blasters were not fatal, as far as he knew. Just really painful, that was all.

The university should be _thanking_ the two of them. People would be talking about their stunt for years to come, and the battlesuit was a demonstration of what MIST's best and brightest could accomplish. Blowing up half the campus was an unfortunate side effect of their experiment, sure, but buildings could be rebuilt. He didn't understand what the big deal was. One thing he knew for sure, though, was that he had enjoyed it. He was already thinking about tweaks and modifications, how they could make another battlesuit in the future that was more mobile, more maneuverable. And, just as a theoretical scenario, if he built a battlesuit for himself and someone wanted to trip him up with a metal cable, how could he counter that? It was an interesting scenario-

"So you guys built some kinda robot, huh?"

The two of them looked at Carlos, who had spoken up for the first time since their incarceration.

"That's right," said James. "It just destroyed half the Middleton Institute of Science and Technology campus."

"That's a real shame."

The two of them nodded awkwardly. Carlos folded his massive arms together, staring dully at them.

"So, what'd you use to fuel the thing?"

Drew looked at James, who looked back at him, nonplussed. "C65 rocket fuel," he said hesitantly.

"I woulda used C60 rocket fuel," said Carlos. "Bit less powerful, but more adaptable to non-rocket situations, know what I'm sayin', boys?"

Who did this lout think he was, talking about-

Drew thought about it for a moment. C60 rocket fuel. It was an interesting idea. It was possible Carlos was on to something. The battlesuit was no rocket, and since there wasn't really any fuel specifically designed to power human-piloted robots – or, in this case, lab rat-piloted robots - it was best to use something both powerful and adaptable, instead of just going for straight power in the C65. Maybe Carlos had-

"I also think you got pretty lips, boy."

Drew gulped as Carlos stared intensely at him. Fortunately, that was just about when the cell door opened.

"You two," said Chief Brody. "You're free to go."

James and Drew looked at each other in surprise. "Really?" asked James.

"Yeah. Somebody posted your bail."

"Who?"

"No idea," said the chief. "But you two better not run off and disappear, we might still be pressing charges. By the way, Lipsky, your dad's drivin' you home."

The two of them headed out of the open cell door. "Bye, you two," said Carlos.

Drew turned back and waved nervously as the chief shut the cell door behind them. Carlos raised a beefy hand and pressed a couple fingers to his lips, blowing Drew a kiss before they turned around a corner and left the prison area, headed into the station's main offices. Drew breathed a sigh of relief; one night with Carlos was one night too many. Unless he had some more interesting advice on rocket – Drew shook his head and dispelled the horrifying imagery from his mind before it had even taken shape.

He wondered how they had gotten free so easily. Surely, with half the campus destroyed, somebody at MIST could have found some charges to press – but maybe the university was holding off, for some reason. Maybe the Middleton Police Department was just incompetent, too. His father had certainly implied as much over the years. And there his father was, waiting for him by his desk.

"Can you get back home alright?" his father asked James.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Drew and his father left the office room, past the lobby and the check-in desk, and out the front doors of the police station. Drew hadn't said goodbye to his friend, but somehow, he couldn't help feeling that this had left a rift between the two of them. Things had been different all semester – Bob and Ramesh weren't nearly as much fun as they used to be, and now that James was in grad school, he seemed to be changing his tune as well. Trying to go straight, trying to do what the system wanted him to do. But Drew had been feeling differently. The more he tried to force his way through university, the more he felt like it just wasn't for him. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. He couldn't be himself.

Drew was coming home with his father. He probably wouldn't be coming back.

XX

"Why do I get the feeling we're only hearing one part of this story?"

Drakken was annoyed that Shego had just interrupted his story. Not that he really wanted to talk about things with Doctor Liz, especially with Dementor hanging around to hear what was supposed to be personal stuff, but the Pinky Joe incident wasn't quite as bad. And he had forgotten about much of it until now.

"Dude," said Eddie, "a cybertronic battlesuit? That's totally awesome! Like, seriously!"

"I must agree with your cousin's assessment," said Dementor. "De cybertronic battlesuit is a VONDERFUL IDEA if your ignorant friend had not ruined it vith his lab rat pilot modifications."

"You think so, really?"

Dementor nodded. Drakken was surprised to hear his stepfather actually approving of one of his schemes, even if this one hadn't really been a scheme so much as an early project he had shared with James. But still, it was close enough to be counted as a scheme. "What did you think about the plasma blasters?" he asked.

"James vas ridiculous to criticize dem. It sounds to me as if they worked FANTASTICALLY!"

Drakken smiled for a moment, about to engage Dementor in more conversation about the battlesuit – as a matter of fact, he wanted to know what the man thought about what Carlos had suggested in terms of rocket fuel. "What about the C60?" he asked. "Do you think that would be effective?"

"Do you know," said Dementor, "I happen to be aware of a J2 rocket fuel invented by the very James Possible you haf been talking about. From what I have been told, it might be an excellent choice. And I could help you steal it from the-"

Dementor shot a quick look at his wife, but she didn't seem to catch anything.

"I mean, I could help you purchase it if you ever wanted to make another battlesuit. Just as a hobby. When you are not working on de radio show."

Drakken hadn't gotten a chance to make another battlesuit since then, especially seeing as James had gone behind his back and sold the one they had to the university to lessen their punishment, and he had always wondered if changing the fuel would work better. He hadn't heard about this J2 rocket fuel – he wondered how Dementor had caught wind of it. He was about to continue talking about the battlesuit when he realized that somehow he had entered into a friendly conversation with his stepfather and archenemy. Drakken cleared his throat nervously and ended the conversation.

Fortunately, Doctor Liz looked like she wanted to interject, anyway.

"I'm wondering," she said, "does this tie into your problems with Hans, in the sense that you want approval from him, just like you wanted approval from your biological father? It sounds like the two of you had a lot of trouble relating, but with Hans, you don't have so much trouble. It looks like both of you share the same hobbies, as well as your regular radio hosting careers. Are you worried that bonding with Hans would somehow be an insult to your father's memory?"

"Of course not," scoffed Drakken. "What a ridiculous idea."

Doctor Liz looked a little miffed at her idea being brushed off, but made a note on her clipboard and motioned for Drakken to continue the story. "So you were released from jail," she said. "What happened next?"

Drakken brought his memories back to the surface. As it turned out, he was in some trouble with the university, but not nearly as much as he expected. Not that he deserved to get in _any_ trouble, of course. But more surprising than any of that had been the way his father acted when they returned home from campus.

XX

A lone light bulb shone down from the ceiling of the attic, pushing back the darkness around Drew. Its cord brushed against his face as he changed position, poring over some schematics he had arranged on the floor. Being up here alone gave him some time to think, and to avoid the guilt and embarrassment that came lately with seeing his parents. He knew there was no reason to feel guilty or embarrassed about his suspension, seeing as it had all been the college's fault, and yet the feelings still came to him. Up here, he didn't have to think about his academic situation. Instead, he could think about his next great invention.

"Oh Dreeewbie!"

Drew looked up from his schematics to see his mother coming up the stairway that led into the attic. She balanced a tray of something in her hands, and Drew caught a whiff of a wonderful odor coming from it. "I brought you dinner," she explained. "Your dad looks like he'll be a little late coming home again, and I thought I'd go ahead and make you some tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches!"

"Thank you, mother," said Drew. "A little bite to eat is a welcome diversion, I suppose."

"What are you working on there?"

"Oh, just a new invention of mine."

"What'll it do, sweetie?"

"It will blast a – I mean, um, it will give lawn mowers a more efficient power system. Yes. Lawn mowers."

"That's wonderful! Maybe you should show your dad. I betcha he'd like that."

"Yes, perhaps."

Drew's mother set the tray down next to him and went back down the stairs, leaving Drew to his thoughts. Thoughts of revenge against the people who had slighted him. Thoughts of his imminent greatness, of a universal recognition of Doctor Drew Lipsky, genius extraordinaire. Thoughts of – maybe, just maybe – complete world domination, although he didn't take that last one very seriously.

Still, he had entertained such thoughts in the past from time to time, ever since he had met that strange bird-like man at the police station when he was a teenager. It had just been on his mind much more now that he was suspended. He knew he was lucky to just get a suspension – apparently James Possible had made some kind of deal with MIST to sell their cybertronic battlesuit and get himself and his friends a reduced punishment as a result, and Drew was irritated to no end that he had not been consulted on that decision.

But the suspension was still a clear signal to Drew. He had hoped for some change after high school, that college would be different, but no. That was not the case. There were the same expectations of conformity, the same by-the-book mentality that left him always on the outside, always struggling on the periphery. He just didn't fit into the academic system. His genius could not be cloistered in the suffocating halls and classrooms of the university.

His friends fit into that system much more easily. James, Bob, and Ramesh had all started grad school, as a matter of fact, while Drakken was still struggling to complete his senior year, having fallen behind as a result of various missed requirements, dropped classes, and smaller schedules chosen to accommodate his 'extracurricular' studies. Four years as an undergrad with his friends had shown him that he was an outsider, not just at MIST, but with them. Chen and Ramesh in particular liked to do things by the book. They knew all the right people, said all the right things, followed the rules to the letter. They were both planning to join big corporate firms after they got their doctorates.

Drew had seen more promise in James Possible. Maybe his friend wasn't a genius on his own level, but he was still a genius, and he took a certain pleasure in flaunting the rules and living on the wild side, just like Drew did. They had worked jointly on the battlesuit – Drew taking up the bulk of the work - although Drew hadn't expected it to turn into Pinky Joe Curly Tail's battlesuit. James was the one who had discovered the rat in the psych labs while he was an undergrad, during one of his after-hours visits to the place, and taken a liking to it. Their relationship had been fraying with the start of grad school, but even up to last night, Drew had thought of the two of them as friends. Best buds, peas in a pod, the two amigos.

But James still made fun of him sometimes, just like Chen and Ramesh. They had all mocked him when his Bebe robots didn't work out, even though he was doing it to get all of them dates. They never paid him any respect. Even before the Bebes, he had often been the black sheep in their little posse.

When it came down to it, Drew could tell that James was like Bob Chen and Ramesh in the end. Maybe a little rougher around the edges, but he was a part of the system, too. His under-the-table deal with MIST had made that clear enough. Selling the battlesuit to the university to get out of trouble without asking Drew if he was fine with the rights to their invention being given away. The very fact that James could pull it off meant that he had more friends in high places at the university than Drew did. They were roommates, and Drew had thought they were friends, but he knew things between him and James had broken apart. There was no going back.

_ Perhaps someday_, thought Drew, _I'll be Possible's enemy_. It was an amusing thought.

Once again, the sound of feet coming up the wooden attic steps reached Drew's ears. He sighed, anticipating another interruption from his mother; the soup and sandwich were nice, but he was trying to concentrate. Sometimes his mother didn't quite understand the concept of personal space. As he turned to greet her, however, he saw his father's head appear from the top of the stairs. "Father!" said Drew, a little surprised at the sight. "You're back from work?"

"Yes, I am."

Ken stepped all the way into the attic, making sure not to step on the schematics and half-finished pieces of metal and wiring scattered around on the floor. Drew took a bite of his grilled cheese sandwich, waiting for his father to say something, but the two of them stayed there – one sitting, one standing – in uncomfortable silence. Finally, Drew spoke up.

"What brings you up to the attic?" he asked.

"I was hoping to talk to you."

"Ah, I see. About the suspension?"

"Among other things," said Ken.

Drew could see a painful conversation on the horizon. He had been back at home for a few days, but his father had been busy at the station most of the time since then, and hadn't really talked to Drew much about what happened. He was anticipating trouble – some kind of punishment, maybe, besides the suspension itself – but his father had been silent on the subject. Tonight, that silence was about to end. So much for private time.

"That was quite a robot you made."

Drew had to admit that a compliment on his cybertronic battlesuit was the last thing he had been expecting to hear from his father. Unable to think of anything to say – even a 'thank you' somehow seemed strange – he watched as his father took a seat on the floor beside him, glancing over the schematics he was working on.

"Thank you," Drew finally managed to say.

"You're welcome. Is that the kind of thing you've been working on in college instead of your _actual_ work?"

Drew nodded slowly. His father had asked him questions like that before, in high school, but this time there seemed to be a certain resignation in his voice. As if Ken knew the answer already, and knew – like Drew did – that his son was not cut out for the college life. Even stranger, Drew wondered if he caught a hint of actual interest in his father's voice. His father had never been interested in the kinds of things he soldered, hammered, or mixed together on late nights in the attic, or in the garage, or in his dorm room with James Possible. So why would he be interested now?

"Why do you get in so much trouble all the time?"

Drew shrugged haplessly in reply. His father didn't sound angry, weirdly enough. Just curious. But it wasn't like Drew was particularly interested in talking about his suspension and his academic failings.

"I remember your teachers back in elementary school saying you didn't work well in groups. Always had your own way of doing things," said his father before sighing faintly. "Never wanted to follow the rules."

"I follow the beat of my own drummer," said Drew. "Usually the rules are pointless and restrictive, anyway. It's not that I'm trying to let you down, father, it's just that – well, it's just that I'm not cut out for being a part of some _institution_. My genius can't be caged in like that. It's too stifling for me!"

Ken sat back against a box, picking up a piece of metal and wiring and looking curiously at it. Drew knew he had been building it for something, but he couldn't remember what it was for anymore. Sometimes he had trouble concentrating for too long on one particular project. "You can't always follow the beat of your own drummer," said Ken. "Not if it gets you suspended, or worse. The world works a certain way, Drew. You have to learn how to work with other people and compromise if you want to get anywhere. Otherwise you're just going to get ground down. Take my word for it – sometimes you have to accept things the way they are."

"I tried to do that," said Drew. "I thought college might be a change, but it's not. I don't care for the assignments, the teachers, the hoops you have to jump through. They make you take all these silly courses to complete your requirements – let me tell you, that ethics in science course had to be the biggest waste of time I've ever seen! And don't get me started about the social life – have you ever heard of 'networking', father? It's when people make friends in order to have job contacts and get ahead in their chosen career. I've had people try to make friends me with me only to ask me to vote for them later on some school council! It's all so hypocritical, so false! Don't you think?"

His father did not respond, but Drew could tell he was listening, at least. "And the people I thought were my friends," he continued, "James and Bob and Ramesh - they don't appreciate my potential. They're always laughing behind my back, teasing at my expense, always telling me I have no motivation. They see me as a joke."

"You have to stand up for yourself," said Ken. "If people are giving you a hard time, you have to push back."

Drew considered his father's advice. He had told him things like that in the past, but his father didn't understand how hard it could be. Besides, Drew wasn't the type for brute force; he wasn't interested in getting into fist fights or engaging in the crude behavior he had seen in the past. And in college, it wasn't physical anymore, anyway. The only way to possibly fight back would be to make everyone else see his genius, to make everyone acknowledge his talent, once and for all. But how could he do that? Anytime he tried to be himself, even a little bit, he was ostracized or punished.

His father was a police officer, so it was easy for _him_ to fight back against his enemies. He had the law on his side. Although now that Drew thought about it, the advice seemed a little strange coming from his father. Did Ken Lipsky stand up for himself? Drew had seen the police chief giving his father a hard time on a few occasions, and he had heard his father complaining on other occasions, although he wasn't the type to harp on things too much. But it had been enough to convince Drew that his father had a hard time at work sometimes. How could his father fight back, when the person who didn't give him respect was his superior? How could he have his way when he was working in a system based on following the rules and obeying orders?

"Are you happy with your job, father?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering. It seems like you aren't."

Drew looked down at his schematics again as he waited for an answer. He had never been this blunt in questioning his father before, but he felt like something was different. Instead of getting berated for his suspension, instead of being told that he was on his own when it came to college funding, his father seemed to be actually having a real conversation with him. And didn't seem angry, either.

"I like law enforcement," said Ken. "I chose to be a police officer because I knew I would be good at it, and because I needed to support my family. Maybe it's not what I expected it to be, but you have to choose something to do in life. And you have to do things for the sake of your family, Drew. You have to compromise."

"You used to want me to follow in your footsteps," said Drew. "To be a police officer."

Ken nodded silently.

"Do you still think I should do that?"

Drew wasn't sure why he was asking the question. Partly because he was just interested, partly because his father hadn't really brought the subject up in a while. Partly because, when his parents had seen him off to college, there had been a certain resignation on his father's part, as if he was acknowledging his son was not interested in law enforcement. But now that Drew's college career seemed to be fizzling out into an ignominious end, he wondered what his father thought. He still didn't want to be a police officer, and his father had just come as close to admitting he didn't like his job as Drew could have ever expected.

"I think you should do what you want to do," said Ken. "You went to college because you weren't interested in following in my footsteps. And that's fine. I wish you'd apply yourself more and learn how to work with the world, but maybe college isn't for you, I don't know. Whatever you end up doing, I guess you need to do what you're passionate about. You have to follow your dreams."

Drew rolled his eyes. "How cliché, father."

Although his father rarely smiled, Drew did notice the corners of his mouth turn up, just a little. The two of them sat quietly for a while, and Drew looked down at his schematics – although he was surprised to be almost enjoying the little talk he was having with his father, his mind couldn't help wandering towards his formulas and inventions. Especially after the success – so to speak - of Pinky Joe Curly Tail's cybertronic battlesuit rampage, Drew's mind had been swimming with various ideas.

"So what are you working on there?" asked Ken.

"Well," said Drew, "the battlesuit that James and I made gave me some ideas."

Drew trailed off, waiting for his father's reaction. Considering he had been suspended as a direct result of Pinky Joe's tornado of destruction across campus aided by the battlesuit, he wondered if his father was going to react negatively. But no admonishment came. No unkind words about his invention. His father had complimented him on the robot earlier, after all. Drew watched curiously as his father looked more closely at the schematics.

"Maybe you could show me," he suggested.

"Really?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Drew's surprise did not last long. He loved explaining the workings of his inventions to others, and for his father to finally show some kind of interest was a rare opportunity. Maybe his father would finally recognize some of his accomplishments. Maybe he would even join Drew in his next project. He _did_ have two weeks at home while he was suspended, after all. He got up quickly, gathering the schematics in one hand and balancing a box of doodads and supplies in the other while leading his father towards the stairs leading out of the attic.

"Where are we going?" asked Ken.

"Down to the garage. I've been planning up here, but we need a little more room, and I have some more supplies down there. I'll give you an overview of some of my better inventions, father, and then perhaps we can build something new!"

His father looked hesitant at first, but when Drew went down the attic steps and through the upstairs hallway, he finally began to follow. The two of them made their way through the kitchen, where his mother was baking something in the oven. The smell was delicious. "Hello, mother," said Drew.

"Hello, Drewbie! Done lurking around in that attic, I see. Where are you two going?"

"I'm going to show father some of my work."

"Is that right?"

Drew nodded as he led his father towards the laundry room, which led out into the garage.

"I'll bring some tea and cookies for you two!" shouted Claudia from the kitchen.

Out in the garage, along the walls, a collection of Drew's tools and inventions filled various shelves to the brim, collecting dust from their abandonment ever since Drew went to college. He had only visited home for short periods of time on holidays during the years that he had spent struggling as an undergrad. And between the time he spent working on ridiculous school assignments and inventing things in his dorm room or in campus laboratories he broke into over school semesters, he had never had the opportunity to do much at home.

Now, as he looked over forgotten relics of his childhood and his teen years, Drew felt a sense of nostalgia. Some of the objects buried at the bottom of boxes or wedged in the back of shelves were just embarrassing. Drew picked up one cylindrical object and winced at the poor soldering along the edges. He tried to remember what it was supposed to be – a power unit to charge a Molecular Reorganization Chamber, if he remembered correctly. He had been hoping to put Venus Flytraps in the chamber and make them grow to massive sizes, but he had never actually gotten around to building the chamber itself.

"What is that?" his father asked.

"A power unit," he said. "Not my best work."

Now that Drew looked at the power unit, he remembered just enough of its construction to know that it was probably too dangerous to even use at this point. Even holding it was probably not a good idea. _Ah, the ignorance of youth_, thought Drew. He chuckled softly as he returned the unit to its corner of the shelf, hoping he might scavenge it for parts at some point in the future. He tended to be a pack rat, as recycling parts – or even ideas – always saved time and money. The garage, just like the attic, was filled with things that might be of some use to him in the future. Maybe he'd put some of those ideas swimming in his head to the test, especially if he had more time after dropping out of college. But right now, he needed to start simpler.

Right now, it was time to show his father a few things.

XX

* * *

_**Notes** - Hope you guys liked this chapter - let me know what you thought. It overlaps quite a bit with the climax of A Pinky Joe Curly Tale, as I'm sure those of you who are reading that noticed. I just added the last chapter to that story as well, so it's finished in case anybody wants to check it out._

_Also, I want to get this story finished before Christmas, which means I'm ramping up the update schedule. There are 4 chapters left after this one, so I will be updating again this Friday, and then 2 or 3 times next week depending on whether or not I care about getting it all finished before or right after Christmas. We'll see._


	14. Family Matters

**Family Matters**

XX

Although Shego had mainly tagged along to the therapy session for yucks, she found herself fascinated by Drakken's tale of his past. For all the time she had spent working for the man, she was starting to realize she really didn't know all that much about him. Who would have thought he was ever such good friends with James Possible, for instance? And she didn't know his dad was a cop, either. She had been listening intently to his story, but Drakken abruptly trailed off as the rest of the group listened.

"And then what?" asked Doctor Liz. "You and your father bonded when it came to your interests in tinkering?"

Drakken looked indignant. "Tinkering? It's much more than that, _doctor_. But yes, we did bond."

"It was the first time your father had expressed interest in what you were doing?"

"Yes. Although perhaps he just wanted to spend some time with me, after I had been in college for so long, blazing my own trail in life. And he didn't really say it out loud very often, but it was obvious that he wasn't satisfied with his own job, which was part of it, I think."

Doctor Liz scribbled on her clipboard. "So why do you think this has caused problems with your stepfather? Do you think Hans is trying to replace your biological father?"

Drakken did not respond.

"Perhaps you're having trouble letting go of the past. You know that you can accept Hans as a part of your life without having him replace Ken. No one is asking you to replace your memories, after all."

Drakken did not seem to be listening. He had been on the verge of opening up, but as he sat in the little circle in the middle of the office, his chattiness had gone away quickly, replaced by a sour expression and a stony silence. It was like something bothered him about his memories of when his real father finally began to open up to him.

"You know, Drew, your mother had to talk about what happened with her husband in order to move on," said Doctor Liz. "I think you might be facing some of the same things she had to face. Maybe we should talk about what happened to your father, and how you feel about it."

It occurred to Shego that Doctor Liz, knowing Claudia as a friend and having had her as a patient in the past, must know even more than she did about Drakken's mysterious past, having gotten it from his mother.

"Maybe we shouldn't," snapped Drakken.

"It's up to you," said Doctor Liz. "But I think this is the crux of your problem. Your father's death is-"

Before anyone knew what was happening, Drakken got up from the little circle and walked calmly towards the door. The therapist sat in confusion as he left the office, nodded to the receptionist in the lobby area, and disappeared around the corner. Shego had to admit she didn't see that coming – was it some kind of breakdown? Just another example of her boss's bizarre behavior? She was leaning towards the former; something about the way the conversation had been going had majorly rubbed Drakken the wrong way.

She would have been less surprised by an overly dramatic tirade against Dementor, or maybe a flat out refusal to talk, but just walking out? To her, that seemed way more concerning.

"Why did he leave?" asked Claudia. "We were making such good progress!"

Eddie nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that was a pretty cool story with the rat robot. Seriously!"

"Let me go talk to him," said Doctor Liz. "I think he didn't know how to verbalize his-"

Shego got up along with the therapist, holding out a hand to stop the woman before she reached the door. From the look of things, Drakken wasn't going to be interested in talking to the therapist anymore – Shego knew he probably had a dim view of therapists, anyway. Too soft-sciencey. "Um, I think it might be better if I went to talk to him," she said. "If Doctor D's gonna listen to anybody, it'll be me."

"Very well."

Shego left the office and picked up her pace as she went through the lobby and out of the building. She stepped out onto a sidewalk lining the road in front of the building and looked around for a moment until she caught sight of her boss. Doctor D had already gained a lot of distance. She ran down the sidewalk towards him, hoping he wasn't just going to start running away.

"Hey, Doctor D!"

Drakken looked back. Sure enough, once he caught sight of her, he began to run.

"Come on, hold up a second! Let's just talk!"

"I don't want to talk, Shego!"

"Look, you don't have to talk about your dad right now, but running from your problems isn't going to solve them!"

Drakken hadn't been paying attention to the sidewalk in front him, and ended up smacking into a pedestrian coming from the opposite direction, almost losing his balance but managing to keep on his feet. The woman fell over, dropping groceries on the curb, and Drakken made as if to stoop down and help her pick them up for a moment until he thought better of it and careened through them, picking up the pace again. The woman shook her fist from the sidewalk as Drakken, and then Shego, passed by her.

"I'm not trying to run from my problems, Shego! Just from you!"

_How reassuring_, thought Shego with a roll of her eyes. At least Doctor D didn't see _her_ as a problem.

She kept up her pursuit, and while she knew it would be easy to overtake him, she began to slow down as she wondered why she was even bothering. Drakken had just wised up a little and darted off into a side alley, anyway, which would make it a little harder to keep track of him. The man obviously wanted some alone time, and tackling him in the middle of a busy Middleton street was probably not the best way to defuse the situation.

Shego came to a halt, looking back at the Share & Care Family Therapy building just as Dementor, Claudia and Eddie Lipsky came out of the front entrance. The two Lipskies looked down the street, their expressions worried and questioning. Even Dementor, she noticed, looked very concerned. She was convinced now; the man actually did have some bizarre affection for his Doctor D. Shego shrugged in response to their unspoken question. Knowing Drakken, he'd show up back at the cottage in a few hours, most likely acting like nothing had even happened.

And yet somehow, it seemed like this went a little deeper than his usual petty drama.

XX

_That_ had been a uncomfortable car ride.

For the first time Shego could remember since she met the woman, Claudia Lipsky had been quiet for more than a minute at a time. She had barely said a word for the whole car ride, actually. Dementor was also quiet, which again – considering the little man's big volume – was quite a feat. Only Eddie was left to talk, and while Shego found him as irritating as usual, at least it seemed like he had been toning down the awkward greaser flirting after the night at the Lowerton karaoke dive. It was like Eddie was finally getting a clue, finally realizing that, no, he had no chance with her. Still, all in all, an awkward ride home.

The car took a turn past the outskirts of Lowerton and headed up the gravel drive which snaked between walls of trees until it reached the clearing that held their secluded cottage. Everyone else piled out to go inside – although Shego had an urge to plop down on the couch and watch some television after that surprisingly unfunny family therapy session, she couldn't help noticing Claudia looking listless as the woman sat at the kitchen table. Drakken was definitely putting his mom through the ringer by running off with no explanation like that.

Dementor had only just entered the cottage when he made a beeline through the hallway that connected the kitchen and living room, on his way to the elevators. Shego noticed him heading off. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"Down to de radio station," he said. "I must fetch something, and den go to work."

"Work?" asked Claudia. "You're not staying, sweetie? It's Sunday!"

"I am afraid I haf much to do. Many important tings are happening tomorrow."

Shego sat on the couch and turned on the TV as Dementor went off to the lair below the cottage. Although she was flipping channels, she wasn't really paying attention to them. More important things were on her mind. From the sound of it, Dementor would be launching his plan – whatever it was – pretty soon. Without Drakken around, she wondered what that meant. It didn't seem likely the two of them would be working together now, even though she personally thought that would have been the best option for both of them – and if Dementor took over the world, that would be like Drakken's family problems on steroids.

She began to wonder if she needed to throw a wrench in his schemes, even without her boss around. Or did Drakken want to let his stepfather get everything in motion before grabbing the reins of power at the last moment? Hard to say. She couldn't really ask Doctor D what the plan was, seeing as the man was currently wandering the streets of Middleton, as far as she knew.

"Hey, Green," said Eddie, dropping onto the couch like a sack of potatoes and snaking a beefy arm around the back. Shego would have sent a fiery burst of plasma sailing straight into his face, but it didn't like an attempt to cop a feel or anything – he was just totally oblivious to what he was doing. The other hand grabbed the remote from where Shego placed it on the coffee table and began to flip channels, ignoring the one she had specifically settled on after flipping. "That therapy session was kind of a drag - am I right, or am I right?"

Shego ignored him and left the couch to go into the kitchen. Claudia was sitting at the table, looking like she had a lot on her mind. She couldn't help feeling sorry for the woman. Sure, she drove Drakken up the wall, which in turn drove Shego up the wall, making her a secondary victim of Claudia Lipsky's stifling motherly instincts, but when it came right down to it, the woman seemed nice enough. And more perceptive than Shego had expected, considering that she knew her son's true nature. So Claudia probably knew Doctor D was having some serious problems. This whole daddy issue looked bigger than Shego would have guessed.

"Can you get me a piece of strudel, sweetie?"

Shego nodded and grabbed a couple of pieces from the leftover strudel on the cake pedestal on the kitchen counter; one for Drakken's mother, and one for herself. The awful smell permeated the air as she grabbed some silverware and sat down. Her nose would get used to it in a minute or two. Claudia poked at her pastry halfheartedly.

"I wouldn't worry," said Shego. "Doctor D always overreacts to stuff. He'll be back sooner or later."

"I hope so."

The two of them listened to the sound of tires screeching. For a minute, Shego thought someone was coming up the gravel drive, but no – it was coming from whatever show Eddie was watching in the living room. She took a bite of her strudel as she thought about Drakken's past – what he had said about it in therapy, anyway, which maybe was not the most reliable version of the past. But it was _a_ version, at least. "Can I ask you a question?" she asked Claudia.

"Of course, Shego."

"What happened with Drakken's real dad? Ken, right?"

"That's right."

Claudia was silent as she took a bite of her pastry. Shego had to wait, but she could tell that the woman was organizing her thoughts. Finally, she spoke.

"Ken and my little Drewbie never did see eye to eye, you know. But that didn't mean they didn't love each other. They just had different ways of doing things, that's all. But when Drew came back from college after he got in trouble, things started to change. It took my Kennie a long time to open up, but I guess he wanted to meet his son halfway. Pretty soon, those two were in the garage day and night, let me tell you..."

XX

He was an exile, driven from house and home by his worst enemy. Save for Kim Possible, perhaps. He was a lost soul, wandering the lonely streets of – well, not so lonely streets, to be honest. Downtown Middleton was usually kind of busy. But he _felt_ alone. Drakken walked aimlessly down the sidewalk, licking an ice cream bar he had bought from a convenience store earlier while he mulled over his options.

Getting up and leaving the therapy session without a word to anyone had probably not been the best choice. It was kind of embarrassing, to be honest, but he had simply been tired of talking about his father. What did some silly therapist named Doctor Liz know about his family situation, anyway? Drakken wasn't going to get any enlightenment or help solving his problems from some new-agey stranger in her candle-filled office. And as much as he knew his mother wanted to help him, he knew his mother wasn't going to solve his problems, either. She had been the _cause_ of all his problems, after all, when she married his nemesis and brought the man into his home – at least, his latest in a long string of lair homes – to take everything over and order him around.

The more he thought about it, the more he knew there was only one solution.

Once Drakken reached the end of his ice cream bar, he threw the stick into a gutter on the side of the road. Somebody walking by gave him a dirty look, presumably for littering, but Drakken glared right back until the man backed down and kept walking. He was in no mood for judgmental people. The man was lucky he didn't have a Particle Disruption Cannon handy, otherwise the man have a lot more than littering to be upset about. He'd be worrying about a whole lot of disrupted particles, that's what. And once those particles got disrupted, there was no undisrupting them.

Drakken stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and took in his surroundings.

He knew Global Justice had an underground facility in Middleton. He had never actually been there, of course, but he had a vague idea that they used some kind of network of tunnels to move around. It was just a question of how to get in touch with them. GJ didn't exactly have a public phone line for interested callers or people wanting to set up a vacation tour, after all. Strange how he had been lying low in Lowerton for weeks, on the run from Global Justice ever since he had escaped from prison, but now that he actually wanted to _find_ them, he wasn't even sure how. Maybe if he put out an ad in the-

Drakken's free fall through the hole in the sidewalk was so fast that he barely kept his ice cream bar from coming out the way it had come in. He dropped through a dim tube in the ground – down, down, as translucent plastic walls flashed by in a blur. At least he was getting some confirmation on his GJ tunnel transportation suspicions. He felt a strange buoyancy surrounding him as he slid every which way through the tube, which was twisting and turning beneath Middleton. Finally, he began to slow down, able to make out rocky shapes of the earth just beyond the tube's walls, until he reached a total stop, held up by some kind of antigravitational force.

His feet touched a metal floor. A door opened in front of him.

"Doctor Drakken," said Will Du, pointing some kind of pistol at Drakken's face. Probably an energy pistol, seeing as real weapons weren't Global Justice's style. "You're under arrest for violating the terms of your conviction and evading justice, subject to regulation 15, subsection 8 of the Global Justice-"

Will Du stopped as a hand was placed on his shoulder. He was surrounded by several other agents, all pointing weapons menacingly, but it was Dr. Director who emerged from behind him and looked over Drakken. "Save it for later, Agent Du," she said. "Doctor Drakken – welcome to Global Justice's Middleton branch."

"Erm, thank you?"

Dr. Director narrowed her one good eye. "Why were you walking around downtown Middleton for hours? Did it not occur to you that we've been looking for you, especially after Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable updated us on your collaboration with Frugal Lucre in his latest scheme?"

"Yes, it did."

"Then why were you so careless?"

Drakken smiled. Soon, his troubles would be over.

"I was looking for _you_."

XX

Normally, James didn't like working on weekends – that was the most reliable time to look forward to some time off with his family, after all – but today was an exception. He had been working harder than usual as the moon launch project deadline drew closer, and now that it was in sight, everyone at the Middleton Space Center was firing on all cylinders. For James, the extra work was as exciting as it was exhausting. They were getting the finishing touches ready today, and Monday would reveal whether or not their efforts had been worthwhile.

"Hi, Doctor Possible!" James nodded to Vivian as he entered the Space Center. "Looking forward to the launch on Monday?"

"Absolutely, Doctor Porter!"

Ignoring the sultry wink she sent his way, James passed through the lobby on his way to the offices. He had just turned into the hallway that led down to his own office and laboratory when he ran straight into Dieter, his intern. Fortunately, Dieter was short enough that his low center of gravity prevented him from flying across the floor. "Sorry about that," said James. "I didn't know you were scheduled today."

"Ah, yes, I thought I vould check in and see how tings are going."

"Good man. We look for that kind of dedication in our regular staff. I like your attitude, Dieter!"

"You are TOO KIND!"

James flinched at the random outburst. He was used to it, though.

Although he was about to join Dieter and head off towards the lab, he noticed the man had just come out of the door that led to the small courtyard where the rocket was set up, which was still ajar. He went ahead and closed the door. Dieter had probably wanted to look at the rocket one last time before they sent it on its maiden voyage out of earth's orbit tomorrow. James could relate – sometimes it was like the rockets were his adopted children, and he was sending them off on their own, waving goodbye as they burned gallons of his J2 rocket fuel in a white plume from their rear ends.

"I vas, um – I vas just giving it a last-minute look-over," said Dieter. "Dat is all."

James chuckled. Dieter was acting like he had been caught red-handed, for some reason. But it wasn't like he had done anything wrong. "You don't have to explain," he said. "I know how you feel."

"Vat?"

"The thing we've worked on for so long is about to be gone forever. I suppose you haven't been here very long, but it's even worse when you've built that rocket for months, let me tell you. But you get used to it."

"Hmm. Yes. Dat is _exactly_ vat I vas talking about."

The two of them went into his office. James set down his briefcase and began to root around some papers on his desk, trying to organize things a little and make sure he didn't miss anything once he began looking over all the parameters and mission points one last time. When it came to his line of work, one mistake could blow millions of dollars' worth of equipment to smithereens. It paid to double check. Sometimes even triple check!

While his attention was absorbed in his paperwork for a long time, however, he couldn't help noticing that his assistant wasn't really doing all that much. James smiled – how silly of him. He had forgotten to give Dieter anything to do. Sometimes James knew he could be a bit of a control freak, and while Dieter was not quite ready to meddle in anything critical to the mission, the man was highly competent. More than twice as old as the usual intern, too, but something about his commanding personality must have gotten him through the vetting process. James could throw him a bone, especially since Dieter had been dedicated enough to come in when he wasn't even scheduled.

As he looked through his papers to find something for Dieter to do, however, he noticed the man wasn't just sitting lazily in his desk chair. It was more than that. Dieter definitely seemed like he was stuck in a blue mood. _Probably more family troubles_, James thought with a sympathetic shake of his head. He put his papers down and gave the man his full attention.

"Something wrong, Dieter?"

"Oh, just more of de family troubles."

When he was right, he was right.

"Want to talk about it?"

"It is de stepson again. He does not vant to accept me as his father. We vent to a family therapy session, but it vas a TOTAL CATASTROPHE!"

"Have you been giving him time to adjust, like I said?"

Dieter sighed. "I suppose not. It is de problems with his real father, too."

"Ah – doesn't want a second one?"

"Vell, his real father is passed away. But he does not vant to move on."

"What happened?"

"I do not know. Mine stepson vill not share, and my wife has not talked about it, either. I must admit, we got married very quickly. It vas a tornado of de hot, sweaty passions, if you know what I mean."

James grimaced. He got the general idea. "Why, do you regret the marriage? Marriages are all about communication, you know. Maybe part of the problem you're having with your stepson is that it was all so sudden – and if you're having problems with your wife, that's going to affect the whole family."

"No, it is not de wife. I am very much in love with her. But perhaps we have not been doing enough of de communicating. She holds back from me, and I hold back from her. Dere are things about me dat – vell, dat I am not sure she vould accept. I am not what you vould call de perfect husband."

"No one is," said James. "But if she loves you, she'll accept you for who you are, as long as the two of you are honest with each other. It's all about trust."

James knew he wasn't the perfect husband, either – or the perfect father. But he thought he did a pretty darn good job of both. Even better than he did at his actual job, and as much as he loved launching off those rocket ships, his family as his first responsibility, anyway. He was no expert, but he felt happy enough with his own life to try to lend a hand to Dieter. From the sound of it, the man had a lot of problems. Hearing about his family troubles only made James more thankful for how lucky he was to never have to worry about those things. The worst family problems _he_ had to deal with were the twins occasionally blowing out the garage – half the time, he was involved in that anyway.

After sifting through his papers, James had just found an interesting task he could give to Dieter, involving the calibration of a few gyrostatic stabilizers, which was fairly straightforward work. But just as he was about to hand them to his intern, he noticed the man sniffling. Dieter lowered his face a little, whipping a handkerchief out of a pocket and blowing his nose with it. "There, there," said James, patting the man awkwardly on the back.

Dieter abruptly threw out his arms and hugged him. "Danke," he said. "For all your advice ven it comes to de family troubles. You haf been very helpful – it vill be a shame when I am no longer working with you after de launch."

"What do you mean?"

Dieter's sniffling ceased as he pulled back, his eyes shifting about rapidly.

"Don't you worry," said James with a laugh. "I'll put in a good word for you – based on your job performance so far, I have a feeling we'll be working together again in the future. Maybe even on a roughly comparable pay grade!"

Dieter laughed awkwardly. "Yes, perhaps."

James nodded encouragingly and handed him the papers for the gyrostatic stabilization. Now that it looked like Dieter was perking up again, they could iron out all the last minute tweaks and make sure everything was ready to go on Monday. After that, maybe his intern would have some more free time to work out his family problems, as well. Maybe Dieter would even take his wife and son to work on family day in the next couple of weeks. Considering how eccentric Dieter and his family sounded in all his stories, James was definitely interested in meeting them.

XX

"What is it you're looking for?"

Kim and Ron lay together on her bed, Kim's arm curled behind Ron's head, as they watched Monique sitting in front of them and typing madly away at her laptop. Kim was glad to end a long day by hanging out with her friend and boyfriend, but Monique's silence was driving her crazy. They had been hanging out together all afternoon, returning to Kim's place and doing some homework together – to Ron's great dismay – after eating lunch at Bueno Nacho. Right in the middle of a particularly boring math assignment, however, Monique had whooped in excitement and rushed over to Kim's computer with no explanation.

"I'm lookin' for it," she said. "I gotta remember the name."

"What, of the site?"

"KP," complained Ron, "I'm so hungry!"

"So go get something to eat."

"I'm too lazy to go downstairs. And your shoulder is so comfortable!"

"I guess you'll just have to starve, then. We ate at Bueno Nacho like an hour ago, anyway."

"Rufus ate most of my stuff."

"He did _not_. I was there!"

Kim pulled Ron a little closer as the two of them waited for Monique to find whatever it was she was looking for. Finally, she raised her hands up in the air with a loud yell of triumphand almost knocked the lamp off Kim's desk as she whirled around in her chair. "Here it is!" she exclaimed. "Get a load of this!"

Kim got up from the bed with Ron as the two of them peered closely at the monitor. Her curiosity change to full-fledged shock as she stared at the website. She knew now why Monique had been so excited. This was almost too good to be true.

"Whoa - is that what I think it is?" asked Ron.

Kim shared her boyfriend's incredulity. "I can't believe what I'm looking at."

"This is totally wrongsick."

"That's right!" said Monique. "Even the bad guys need a little love!"

As she read through Dementor's online dating profile, Kim could barely believe her eyes. Monique had stumbled upon a jackpot, at least in terms of giving Kim something to laugh about. It was possible the site might give them some kind of clue as to Dementor's whereabouts, but since it didn't look like there were any specifics, she doubted it.

The profile name read 'Hans D', and although the man in the profile picture was missing his helmet – and showing off a particularly horrifying case of helmet hair in the process – it was unmistakably Dementor. She scanned the profile. Although she could find no specific references to supervillainy, he _did_ mention an interest in dangerous technology and 'ruling things', whatever that meant. Along with a much more disturbing and horrific reference to long walks on the beach.

"Likes older women?" asked Ron as he read the profile. "Ewww!"

Monique scrolled down the profile slowly, making sure her friends didn't miss anything. Kim stopped her friend's scrolling to point out another section. "Look there," she said. "Under 'open to children?' he put 'yes.' Can you imagine Dementor with _kids_, Ron?"

"I'm having a nice night, KP. I'd rather not."

Monique laughed. "I figured you two would enjoy this. I'm guessin' it's not every day one of those baddies you guys fight pops up on an internet dating site, huh?"

"Hey," said Kim, "wait a minute – why were you on a dating site in the first place, Mon?"

As Monique gave a shrug that was trying way too hard to be indifferent, Kim broke out into a sneaky grin. Realizing where she was about to go with the question, Monique took her laptop away with a grumble and closed the site down.

"Oh, come on," said Kim as she gave her friend a poke in the ribs with her elbow, "you can tell us! Is Monique in the market for some hot internet boys?"

"Okay, so maybe I was checkin' the site out a little! Big deal! I've been single forever. I didn't get lucky like you guys and grow up with some best friend I could go out with and make things easy."

"Still," said Ron, "I wouldn't think you'd need to go on a dating site. You're hot, Monique! You could just come up to a guy and be like, 'hey guy, I'm single, let's mingle' and the guy would be like 'yeah Monique, that's what I'm talking about, booyah!' and then you'd have a date."

"Thanks for the step-by-step demonstration, Ron," said Kim. "The guy would say 'booyah', huh?"

"All cool guys say booyah. And hey, I'm just trying to help a lady out."

"Monique, I thought you were interested in Josh Mankey, anyway?"

Monique tried to look indifferent as she stared vaguely off into the air.

"What makes you say that?" she asked.

"Come on, I see the way you look at him lately. And you said you had a nice conversation that day at Bueno Nacho. What gives?"

"It was a nice conversation. That's it."

"You're _so_ in denial. Monique likes Jooosh!"

"I'm not 'fessing up to anything."

"Pfft."

"Besides, even if I _did_ like him, I'm not as self-confident as I look on the outside, okay? The whole guy thing, and the dating and all that – it's just too much to deal with sometimes, you know? I put up a front and all, and I know I look pretty good," - Monique gestured to her outfit, which both Kim and Ron had to admit was spankin' - "but sometimes I get a little nervous when it comes to the romance. That's all."

"Maybe I should help you out," said Ron.

"Um, that depends on what you mean by 'help out.' But I'm gonna go ahead and say no thanks."

Even though Monique was smiling, Ron crossed his arms in a huff. Rufus mimicked his gesture.

Kim wasn't surprised that her friend was wary of Ron's offer to help. Monique was turning him down in a friendly way, only teasing, but Kim couldn't really blame her. As much as she loved Ron – and was glad to be in a relationship with him – it wasn't exactly like he was a smooth operator. If Ron tried to hook up Monique and Josh, she could see it backfiring somehow. Sometimes Ron still seemed to hold a bit of a grudge against Josh for dating her in the past, anyway, even if that never really went beyond a couple of dates - so any attempt to pair Monique with him could end in disaster.

"Maybe you should send Dementor an email," suggested Kim. "Ask _him_ out!"

"Ha, ha, ha."

Kim grinned at her friend's unenthusiastic response. She looked more closely at Dementor's dating profile, noticing a 'last login' stat in the corner, and gave Monique an apologetic pout. "Oh, tough luck," she said, "it looks like he hasn't logged in for a couple of months. I guess either he found somebody or he gave up."

"What a missed opportunity," said Monique.

Ron looked like he was feeling queasy about the very thought of Dementor and Monique together; Kim decided she'd better drop it before he made a mess on her bed. The thought of Dementor dating _was_ a little gorchy, she had to admit, although she couldn't decide if finding a dating profile belonging to one of her supervillain foes was more gorchy or sad. Maybe the life of evil just didn't leave much time for romance.

As she thought about Dementor's online dating activities – and recent inactivity - Ron's comment about seeing a wedding ring on the man's hand the other day came to mind. Dementor had been sailing by on the rope ladder pretty fast as he hung from the helicopter and stole the Vortex Inducer at Hench Co; Ron hadn't been sure if he had really seen it. But it was an interesting thought. It seemed unlikely that Dementor would have found someone online and gotten married that fast, though – his profile wasn't really _that_ old.

Dementor, married. The more Kim thought about it, the more it seemed like a good thing. Maybe if all her enemies got married, they'd stop bothering her all the time. But then again, Kim had to admit that when it came to fighting evil, she kind of liked being bothered. Now that she thought about it, Claudia Lipsky had mentioned getting married recently. Using an online dating site, too.

But that – no, she thought. There was _no_ way that could...

Kim pulled out her Kimmunicator and dialed Wade.

"What are you doing?" asked Ron.

"Checking into something."

Wade popped up on the screen.

"Hey, Kim."

"Wade, I have a favor to ask you."

"What's that?"

"I'm sending you the URL for a profile on an internet dating site, belonging to Dementor."

"_What?_"

"Yeah, I know. That was my reaction, too."

"Awesome," said Wade, rubbing his hands together. "I was just looking for something funny to read online!"

"Well, it's more than that. I was wondering if you could hack into it and find out who he's been communicating with on the site. I'd like to see if he's been talking to anyone we know."

"Um, okay. Why, you have somebody in mind?"

Kim nodded.

"Give me a minute, then."

Ron and Monique sidled up to Kim and watched the Kimmunicator, their interest piqued.

"Okay, got it!"

Ron whistled in admiration. "Man, you rock, Wade."

"It was pretty easy, actually. His password is 'Dementor'."

"Yikes."

They waited a few more moments as Wade typed away. Before he even said anything, Kim knew she was on to something when she saw his expression change from concentration to shock. "Wow," he said. "He was talking to one person in particular a lot before he stopped using the site. Check this out, guys."

Wade brought up an image of another user's profile picture on the Kimmunicator.

It was Claudia Lipsky.

Ron held a hand to his mouth. "I think I'm gonna barf."

"That's Drakken's mom?" asked Monique.

Kim nodded. "I think we need to pay her another visit, Ron."

"What, tonight?"

Kim thought it was a good idea; they were about done with their homework, anyway. Just as she was about to leave the room, however, she heard a couple of voices talking downstairs. One belonged to her father, who had come home from work about half an hour ago, talking about how things were going well with the moon launch program at the Middleton Space Center – and talking about his intern, Dieter, which was now suddenly raising Kim's suspicions as well – but there was another voice downstairs.

Suddenly, all her supervillain foes were revealing themselves at once.

Kim bounded out of her room and down the stairs with Ron and Monique struggling to keep up. She reached the kitchen and burst inside, ready to tackle her foe if he was in there threatening her parents with some kind of doomsday device. Sure enough, there he was: Doctor Drakken! Although Kim didn't see Shego anywhere. And he didn't seem to be threatening anybody. He was just sitting at the kitchen table with her mother and father.

"Uh, what's going on?"

"Drew came over to pay us a visit," said James. He looked a little displeased at the visit, too.

Kim glared suspiciously at her foe. "Why are you here, Drakken?"

It was an easy question, but just before he answered, he held back. Like he was stumbling over his response. Like the very act of answering was incredibly painful to him. Finally, after everyone in the kitchen waited for what seemed like forever, he managed to force the words out of his mouth.

"I - I need your help, Kim Possible."

Kim raised an eyebrow. She never thought she'd hear _that._


	15. Homewrecker

**Homewrecker**

XX

The weekend had passed, and Monday morning was rapidly drawing into lunch time. Dementor looked impatiently at his watch; he should have been at work already. He was dressed in his business suit, supervillain helmet removed and set aside down in the lair, hair slicked back, briefcase placed on the kitchen table. But he wasn't ready to go yet. One thing was holding him back: his stepson.

"Hans, aren't you going to be late?"

Claudia sat across from him. She had been trying to do a crossword puzzle, but not only was it the Sunday crossword – and thus much harder than the ones the _Lowerton Lowdown_ had for the other days of the week - but she had been glancing up at Dementor about once every five seconds, which was on the verge of driving him crazy. Still, he knew his little Claudia was just worrying about him. He had been planning his "special radio show" for a while now, and his wife knew how much it meant to him. If only his son knew it, too. But despite what had happened at the therapy session, despite the fact that Drew had been missing since Saturday, he still held out hope.

As if in answer to his prayers, the doorbell rang.

"See!" he yelled triumphantly, leaping up from the kitchen table. "I TOLD you!"

"Dude," said Eddie from the living room, where he was watching TV on the couch with Shego, "it's probably just, like, a girl scout or something. Seriously."

"Out here in de middle of nowhere? In LOWERTON, no less? I think not!"

"Those Pixies Scouts can go anywhere," said Shego. "The government should use them to root out fugitives."

Dementor rolled his eyes and went down the hallway to the front door. He knew it had to be his son – he just _knew_ it. Drew just needed some time to think things over, some time to sort things out. That therapy idea had been silly anyway, mostly Claudia's idea; he should have known it would lead nowhere. When it came to man's men like himself and Drew, they needed to work things out for themselves. They didn't ask for help, whether in their schemes or in their personal lives. And now that Drew was back, ready to join forces and crush the world in a vice-like-

He opened the door to find a Pixie Scout standing in front of him.

"Hey, mister! Want some Macadamia Nut cookies?"

Dementor felt his rage rising to an uncontrollable level. _Cookies?_ When he could just make strudel instead?

"Get out of here before I VAPORIZE YOU!"

"Well, golly! What an attitude!"

The girl gave him an obscene gesture and stomped off angrily, headed for the wooded entrance to their cottage clearing. But as she left, Dementor gave a start of shock. Just as she turned the corner around a lone tree planted in the clearing in front of the house, Drew appeared in her place. He stopped abruptly when he noticed the door, already open, and his stepfather staring at him.

"Drew?" asked Dementor. "You're back?"

The two of them studied each other. Dementor couldn't read his son's expression for a moment, but finally, the mask of stoic silence was broken by a wide grin.

"Yes, I'm back."

"I KNEW IT!"

Dementor beckoned his son inside. Shego and Eddie had gotten up from the couch, interested in seeing what all the commotion was about, and Claudia had left the kitchen, too. She clapped her hands together in excitement when she saw her son back from his long absence. "Drewbie, you're home!"

"Yes, mother, the prodigious son has returned!"

Shego rolled her eyes at the comment for some reason, but Dementor didn't have time any sarcasm. Drew was back, and the two of them could now put his plan into action. He knew James Possible was probably waiting impatiently at the Middleton Space Center, since Dementor – as the intern, Dieter – was responsible for many important things. There was no possible way the launch could go ahead without him. And it would ruin weeks of planning, too.

"Where have you been, sweetie?"

"I stayed at a hotel, mother. I didn't mean to make you worry – I just needed some time to think things over."

"Dat is UNDERSTANDABLE!" said Dementor. "I haf NO PROBLEM with de THINKING and de FEELINGS!"

The group stared at Dementor for a moment in response to his outburst. He was trying to sound understand, but in his excitement, he had gotten even louder than he usually did. Still, this was a momentous occasion. "You are ready to help me conquer – conquer de airwaves?" he asked his son, casting a nervous glance at Claudia.

"Yes, I am. Let's put on a show, Hans!"

Dementor felt a tear come to his eye. Drew had used his real name. He had been making an effort to use Drew's real name, too, although he seemed to remember Claudia had told him it was actually Theodore or something like that, and Drew was just a middle name, but Theodore was a ridiculous name. Drew wasn't great either, not compared to a masculine name like Hans, but he hadn't been around to name his son with Claudia, so he couldn't complain much. Maybe they'd talk about renaming once they were ruling the earth as a family.

"Ooh, you two are finally doing a radio show together!" said Claudia. "This is wonderful!"

The two of them went downstairs into the lair, leaving his wife behind in the cottage and taking the elevator with Shego and Eddie, who were going to tag along and help. Dementor needed to gather his henchmen, and Drew needed to gather his henchmen, too. Although lately, most of them had been reporting to Dementor, anyway, since their actual boss had been off moping around and engaging in inferior schemes related to Britina Bikini pics and hypnosis, which really didn't need _any_ henchmen to pull off. Dementor shook his head in amusement at the quaint little schemes his son thought up. Now that Drew had finally joined him, he could show the boy a few things.

They reached the command center, and Dementor grabbed a microphone. "HENCHMEN!" he screeched over the PA system, causing a burst of static which brought everyone's hands to their ears. "PHASE THREE – or, wait, no, phase two? - DE NEXT PHASE of Operation Moonshaker is under way! Assemble in de command center to await orders!"

Myron and Ted, apparently, had already been in the command center, along with one of Drew's top henchmen, Bob.

"Hey, boss," said Myron. "We're gonna go to the Space Center now?"

"Dat is correct."

"Awesome!" said Ted. "Can we shoot off a bunch of rockets?"

"Just one, Ted. Did I not give you all de details of de plan many times now?"

"Uh, I dunno. Maybe I wasn't listening."

Dementor slapped a hand to his face as more of his henchmen began streaming into the command center.

"Bob," said Drew, "where are the rest of my henchmen?"

"I dunno, boss. Probably hanging out with Dementor's henchmen."

"Well, go get them already!"

Bob shrugged and ran off towards the lounge area. Drew grabbed the microphone, about to make his own announcement, when the high-pitched whine of an alarm klaxon began to blare through the command center. Dementor and Drew both looked around nervously – that wasn't a good sign. "Myron," said Dementor. "Bring up de security cameras."

"You know how to do that?" said Drew.

"Yes, I have learned every detail of our lair, of course."

Myron brought up the security system on the giant viewing screen in the middle of the central command platform. The group stared at a variety of subsections on the screen, showing cameras overlooking the lair itself, a couple of entrances to the cottage, and the hidden vehicle bay that was situated farther out into the woods surrounding the cottage. Sure enough, they saw a number of vehicles approaching the front entrance to the cottage. Global Justice vehicles.

"Drew, you FOOL!"

"What did I do?"

"You vere not careful in returning to de lair. Dey followed you!"

"How was I supposed to know!"

Dementor looked at the security camera footage from the front of the cottage, wincing in pain at the anticipation of what was about to happen. An entire troop of Global Justice agents poured out of a couple of personnel carriers, and right behind them were those meddlesome teens, Kim Possible and – well, whatever that goofy sidekick's name was. The Global Justice agents stood aside and allowed the two teens to approach the front door. He watched as Kim rang the doorbell and his wife answered. As much as he loved Claudia, she could be a little oblivious sometimes. Sure enough, after a brief conversation, she let them in with no attempt to stop them. Kim and Ron gave her a friendly nod as they entered, the troop of Global Justice agents filing in behind them.

"Ugh," said Dementor, running a hand down his face in despair.

They had only minutes before they would be captured. Maybe it was already too late. Sure enough, he noticed another Global Justice troop carrier approaching the vehicle bay out in the forest, which he _thought_ had been well-hidden. Perhaps their little tech friend Wade had discovered it. This was going to get tricky – Dementor knew it was unlikely they'd be able to fight off their foes when they'd been taken by surprise.

Not only that, but he felt a surge of rage at the thought of them breaking into his home and wrecking everything. Sure, maybe it had started out as Drew's lair, concealed by a faux-home in the form of a cottage, but it _felt_ like a real home. Here they were, finally together as a family, and they were under attack by their enemies. How _dare_ they! Soon, however, Kim Possible and Global Justice would regret ever having defied him. As long as he could wriggle free from their grasp and reach the Middleton Space Center in time.

"It is time to EVACUATE!"

Fortunately, most of his henchmen were already in the command center, as were Drew's.

"Dude, what a bummer," said Eddie.

"As long as I can get to de Space Center, not all is lost. Everyone, to de vehicle bay!"

"But they're already there!" said Shego.

"We vill have to fight our way through. Dere is a lot of room there. Let's move!"

"What about the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer?" asked Drew. "We can't forget that."

"Oh, dat. I haf already moved it to de Space Center de other day."

"Really? Why?"

Dementor paused for a moment, thinking about his answer. He knew there was another reason he had moved it, right after Drakken had run off from that family therapy session – doubt. Suspicion. But now that his son was back, joining him as the second, almost-equal half of a world-dominating tag team, Dementor felt guilty that he had ever doubted Drakken. So he didn't want his son hearing the real reason for why he moved the Vortex Inducer.

"To prevent it from being stolen in a situation like dis, of course."

"Oh, yes. Makes sense. Alright, Bob, Shego – let's move!"

The group left the command center and made their way quickly through the underground lair until they reached a large lift that led up to the vehicle bay. Only some of the henchmen could fit on the lift – Dementor motioned for some of them to take a utility ladder that went up alongside them, while the rest fanned out in a defensive circle on the lift while he, Drakken, Shego, and Eddie stood in the middle.

He pressed the 'up' button, and it rose steadily until it reached the hanger-like vehicle bay. A few of the troop carriers he had used when he was first moving into Drew's lair were still parked there. Fortunately, the bay doors were closed, but he could already hear an ominous clanging that meant Global Justice was about to break through. They were probably surrounded; as far as he could tell. It was already too late. They could make a mad charge through their enemies, but how would Dementor get all the way to the Middleton Space Center from Lowerton while evading capture? It seemed hopeless. Unless they could make some kind of diversion.

"Let's make a diversion," said Drew.

Dementor smiled. He felt a surge of pride in his son's quick thinking.

"What do you haf in mind?" he asked.

Drew motioned to the henchmen. "We have two groups of henchmen here," he said. "And we need to distract our foes for as long as possible. Send some of yours back into the lair to hold off Global Justice and Kim Possible when they come in from the cottage, and keep a few for yourself here. Shego can go with you, too, and I will stay here in the bay with the rest of my henchmen and distract the agents outside."

"Hey, come on," said Shego. "You think you're gonna last against them?"

"It doesn't matter, Shego. Even if they arrest us, once Hans pulls off his scheme, the world will be ours."

Dementor laughed with unrestrained glee. "Haha, yes! Yes, mine son! Dis is an excellent plan."

The bay doors began to buckle – whatever they were doing outside was working.

"Myron, Ted, stay with me!" he said. "De rest of you henchmen, back to de lair!"

The henchmen nodded curtly as they marched back onto the lift and brought it back down into the liar. Drew began to organize his own henchmen to form a close-knit line in front of the bay doors – if Dementor was lucky, he could slip past undetected with his two cohorts while Drakken's henchmen distracted the agents outside. He knew Drew and Shego had a hovercraft outside, concealed in a little shack near the cottage itself; maybe he could snake back through the forest and commandeer that for himself. Hopefully the controls wouldn't be too complicated.

This could work. It was a good thing Drew had come back when he did – two heads were better than one. With his son by his side, he felt certain things would go his way.

XX

Drew Lipsky was happier than he had been in years.

Now that he was taking a little break from college to get some distance from the Pinky Joe Curly Tail debacle, he had some time to think about things. And things were definitely becoming clear. It had all been James' fault, really – _he_ had been the one who insisted on rescuing that stupid mouse, which had then commandeered the cybertronic battlesuit and wreaked havoc over the campus. James had given him a call the other day and told him that he had struck a deal with MIST's Board of Directors to get both of them off without any serious punishment, but Drew wasn't sure if that was enough to forgive his friends for their attitudes. Bob Chen and Ramesh had been against him for a while now, and all three of them had laughed at his attempt to make them robotic girlfriends for the science mixer.

And then, when James blamed _him_ for the fiasco with that rat and the battlesuit, well – that was the final straw.

Drew was realizing that his friends were part of the problem. College was part of the problem, too. He was beginning to wonder if it was even worth going back. His father was on his side now, taking an interest in his scientific pursuits, and didn't seem very angry at all the trouble Drew had caused. His father had even put in a good word with Dean Barker, which probably helped Drew more than James did by selling that cybertronic battlesuit to the university in exchange for them not being prosecuted or expelled. That battlesuit belonged to _both_ of them, anyway! What right did James have selling it? Not only that, but Drew had done the majority of the work. The battlesuit was essentially _his_ invention, and his friend had sold it off to bureaucratic simpletons who wouldn't recognize genius if it crashed through a wall and stomped on them with a metal foot. Which had almost happened!

And yet, despite this new rift between himself and his friends, Drew was happy, because he was beginning to realize all of this. And most of all, his father was finally recognizing his genius. Finally appreciating him. With his father by his side, he felt certain that things would go his way.

"Pass the monkey wrench," he told his father.

Ken Lipsky passed it over, and Drew used it to screw in a bolt as he fiddled with the innards of the Neutronium Induction Machine he was building. It was half-finished, looking a little bit like a car engine as it sat in a plastic tub filled with water, which was used to stabilize the powerful Neutronium core when he didn't have reflective shielding welded into place yet.

He had been showing his father various things over the past couple of weeks – trying to teach his father the basics, giving him a few demonstrations from time to time – but he wanted to make something a little more complex now. His father probably didn't understand the details of the Neutronium Induction Machine, but he still seemed fascinated, and Drew enjoyed the attention he got while he worked.

"What are you doing there?" his father asked.

"See, this is the Neutronium Power Cell," said Drew. "I'm stating to screw some of the protective metal shielding into place, but you have to be veeery careful. The Neutronium core is very unstable."

"I see," said his father. "What can you use it for?"

"Anything that can be powered by Neutronium," said Drew. "You could make a really fast car, for instance."

His father looked excited by the suggestion. He had always enjoyed cars, which was why Drew had suggested it – he personally didn't care for them nearly as much as someone like his cousin Eddie did.

The thought of Eddie Lipsky sent a flash of insecurity through him. From what he had heard, his cousin was an academically gifted student, on the verge of getting a PhD in Mechanical Engineering from a prestigious university. Other than a mullet he had been wearing lately, which had caused his mother to cluck disapprovingly when she saw the photos sent by her sister, Eddie was a model student. Unlike Drew. But some people just didn't fit into the system, he told himself. Some people – very special people like himself - were destined to march to the beat of their own drummer. Let Eddie take the safe, boring path, cutting off the mullet and finding a desk job somewhere to waste away his years. Just like Bob and Ramesh. Just like James seemed to be doing, after betraying Drew and selling out to the university.

"You know, your mother was always interested in this kind of thing," said his father. "I guess she was always letting you fool around up in the attic and out here in the garage, even though it made me angry sometimes. I never really paid attention to your little toys, but they're pretty complex."

"They _are_ complex. And they're most definitely not toys, father. Well, kind of. But they're very serious toys."

"Maybe we could make this a family activity. I bet Claudia would like to build something with us."

"I'd like that! Here, screw this in."

Drew handed the wrench to his father, who reached into the half-finished Neutronium Induction Machine and twisted another bolt into place. "Kind of like working on a car," he said.

"Yes – it's a lot of fun to build things like this if you enjoy tinkering."

"Are you going back to college?"

The question was abrupt, unexpected, and it took Drew by surprise. The two of them fell silent for a moment, Drew pausing in his work. That was something he'd been considering over the last couple of weeks, and he honestly wasn't sure. Although, the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that he was never going to fit into a place like that. He had told James he was dropping out, and he couldn't see any alternative if he wanted to keep his sanity.

"Do you want me to go back?" he asked.

His father put down the wrench.

"I want you to do what you want to do."

Drew smiled. That was what he wanted, too. It was just too bad he didn't _know_ what he wanted to do.

"I've never given you enough credit," said his father. "You're a genius, Drew. Whether you go to college or not, I think you'll find a way to be successful."

"Thank you, father."

Drew couldn't remember the last time his father had told him something like that. His father approved. He recognized Drew's genius. His mother had always recognized it, of course, but that was only one half of the puzzle; she had never dangled her approval just out of reach, the way his father did. He wondered why his father was suddenly opening up to him. Was it just seeing the cybertronic battlesuit? Was it _that_ impressive? Sure, those plasma blasters were something else, but there was no way that could be all of it.

"Why are you interested in all of this?" asked Drew, motioning to the garage filled with contraptions and inventions. Some had been there for years, while some had been created over the past two weeks, during this new flourishing of activity with his father.

"I'm interested in how this stuff works. What you do."

"Really? All of a sudden?"

His father nodded. "I guess I came in here sometimes when you were in college. I went up into the attic and looked at the things you were making. It was interesting – I didn't understand a lot of it, and I even blew a few holes in the walls when I pressed the wrong button."

Drew laughed. Some of his inventions were definitely not to be handled by laymen.

"Once you were gone," his father continued, "I guess I realized we never spent that much time together. And I realized trying to make you into a different person is a lost cause. I can't make you be a cop. I can't make you follow the rules. You are who you are, and I need to appreciate that. When you left, it was obvious that I couldn't control you. You're growing up, Drew. You've got your own life. I was afraid I'd missed my chance to really know you."

"Well, you didn't."

Drew leaned over and gave his father a hug. He couldn't remember the last time they had hugged each other. He felt a sense of warm security course through him. A new happiness, greater than the happiness he got from his inventions. It didn't even matter whether he went back to college or not. It didn't matter what his friends thought of him. He only cared about what two people thought of him. One was in the house, reading a romance novel with a very awkward cover illustrated with a glistening, unclothed man reclining on a rock in front of a castle, from what Drew had seen in passing through the living room earlier. And the other one was here in the garage, learning the wondrous secrets of Neutronium.

This was the life.

He disengaged from the hug – it was nice, but Drew wasn't exactly a huggy person. It got awkward pretty quick. Turning his attention back to the device, he went over his mental list of what he had to do next. "Hmm," he said, looking over the supplies scattered over the garage floor. "I think we need some more metal shielding to put around the Neutronium Power Cell."

"We don't have enough here?"

"No. I'll have to pay a visit to Sammy's Supply Superstore down on main street."

Drew wondered if he had time to pay a visit to the store this afternoon, before his mother finished preparing dinner. Before he could suggest it, however, the door leading from the garage to the laundry room opened and his mother's head poked out. "Ken," she said, "Chief Brody is on the phone."

"Oh? What does he want?"

"He says he needs to talk to you."

From the look on his face, Drew got the impression his father had forgotten about a shift at the station. As far as he could remember, that had _never_ happened before. Drew had missed tons of classes himself, but his father being late for anything? He didn't even think it was possible!

"He wants you to come down to the station," said his mother.

"Tell him I'll be there shortly."

"How long as you gonna be working, honey? I was just about to start dinner."

"I'm not sure, dear. Sorry."

Claudia frowned a little before closing the door and disappearing back into the house. Drew and his father got up from the garage floor, where they were surrounded by the pieces belonging to their half-finished Neutronium Induction Machine. Drew's father almost stepped on the edge of the plastic tub which was holding the machine itself, but Drew eased him aside just in time. The machine was heavy enough that it wouldn't be easy to upend the bath in which it was sitting, anyway.

Although Drew was amused by his father forgetting a shift, it didn't look very amusing to his father. Of course, that police chief seemed like a horrible boss, as far as Drew was concerned.

"I guess I'm off to work," said his father.

"Did you forget about a shift?"

"I might have," he admitted.

"Why don't you give me a ride?" asked Drew. "I can stop by the store and get those steel plates for the shielding."

"Sure, why not."

Drew joined his father as the two of them got into the family station wagon. Hopefully his father wasn't in any major trouble – and hopefully he wasn't actually working, either. Maybe the police chief just wanted to talk about something down at the station for a minute, and then they could return and work in the garage after dinner.

The last two weeks had been much more fun than anything Drew had done in college. And much more productive, too. He learned more from himself than he did from any of those teachers, and building something with your own two hands was more useful than the abstractions and academics they taught at MIST. The more he thought about it, the more sure he became. He _wouldn't_ go back to college. He was too good for the Middleton Institute of Science and Technology – they didn't appreciate his genius. His false friends looked down on him, but where were they headed? Some dead end government job at the Middleton Space Center? No thank you!

Like his father had said, he would be successful no matter what he did. His parents accepted him for who he was. Someday he would change the world, and he'd do it _his_ way.

And when that day came, everyone else would have to accept him, too.

XX

"Will, to your left!"

Will Du heard Kim's warning and turned just in time to catch one of Dementor's goons with a one-two punch, sending him flying across the polished floor of the command center. Kim and Ron surged on with the other Global Justice agents, mopping up the last of the resistance. Ron ducked as a henchman leaped at him. Kim winced as the guy flew right over her boyfriend's back and slammed into a computer station with a loud crash.

"Where did Drakken say it was again?" asked Ron.

"That way," said Kim, pointing down a hallway as they left the command center.

"Are you sure?" asked Will Du.

Kim ignored them and pushed on ahead. She saw a couple of henchmen running off down the hallway, deciding it was better to flee than to stay and fight and get arrested. One burly man was stupid enough to stand in her way, but she took him out with a spinning kick. It was a little hard to tell which room was which, but she had been counting the doors; finally, she reached the right one and stepped inside. It was the laboratory Drakken had described. She passed lab tables and equipment, making her way to the center of the room as Ron and Will Du reached the door. There was the containment chamber Drakken had mentioned, right in the middle of the lab, and inside -

Inside there was nothing.

"Looks empty," said Ron.

"Yeah, I noticed."

Maybe she _had_ forgotten where it was. She dialed Wade on her Kimmunicator.

"Hey, Kim. Do you have it?"

"Um, I thought I was in the right place," said Kim, "But it's not here. Is this the room?"

Wade checked their coordinates. "Yeah, that's the room where Drakken said the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer would be."

Kim frowned. Things weren't quite going according to plan. Once Claudia let them through – after a lot of suspicious stalling, which made Kim think the woman was more aware of her son's activities than she let on – they had encountered Dementor's henchmen, dressed in their gray uniforms, with Drakken's familiar red-clad henchmen nowhere to be seen. That had been strange, since she had expected Drakken and his henchmen to join forces with them, overpower Dementor's goons, and help put Dementor himself under arrest.

Most of the Dementor's goons _were_ now in Global Justice custody. Dr. Director was up in the cottage's front yard, probably carting them off in the GJ vehicles to the nearest prison already. But Dementor himself was nowhere to be seen. Or Drakken, or Shego, or Eddie, for that matter. And getting that Vortex Inducer was most important. So where was it? Where were they?

"I believe trusting Drakken was foolish," said Will Du. "Once a supervillain, always a supervillain."

"Dude," said Ron. "You think he tricked us?"

Will nodded, although Kim wasn't convinced – he was probably just overreacting. They didn't know why the Vortex Inducer was missing, after all. Maybe Dementor had just moved it. They would have to do a sweep of the rest of the lair, and more importantly, they'd have to find Dementor – hopefully he hadn't managed to escape already. There were only two entrances that Wade had found, the cottage itself and another entrance hidden in the forest, and they had agents blocking both of them. But when it came to Global Justice, you never knew. They could mess anything up.

"Hey, Kim," said Wade. "You need to leave that room and head to the right until you reach a lift. It looks like there's some commotion going on at the forest entrance, like they're trying to break out. It's mostly Drakken's henchmen, too – it looks like they're fighting the Global Justice agents who were trying to get in."

Kim frowned. Drakken's henchmen, fighting GJ? _That_ didn't sound good.

It was time to figure out what was going on. Kim left the laboratory with Ron, Will, and the rest of the agents who had followed them in. Maybe she had been too quick to assume Drakken would join forces with his former foes in an attempt to get rid of Dementor. Finding out that Dementor had married his mother and turned into his stepfather, after all, had been a shock even to Kim, and she wasn't part of the family. She could see Drakken turning to desperate measures in a situation like that. But she was beginning to wonder if Will Du was right. Had they just been double crossed?

XX

Officer Hobble nodded as Ken entered the station. From the look on his partner's face, Ken couldn't help thinking he was in some kind of trouble. He could have sworn he didn't have a shift today, but maybe he had been wrong.

"He's waiting for you in his office."

"Thanks, Hobble."

A few of the other officers glanced idly his way as he walked through the main office, but it looked like a slow day at the station. If he was supposed to be on a shift, he didn't know why Chief Brody needed him. The chief in question poked his head out of his side office just as Ken approached, motioning for him to join him. Ken went inside and closed the door behind him.

"Sorry, sir, did I miss a shift?"

"Yeah, you did. It's almost over now, though."

Chief Brody motioned for him to take a seat across from his desk. The two of them sat quietly for a moment; Ken wondered why the chief was making him sit here instead of letting him go do his job.

"You called in to take the day off twice in the last two weeks, too."

"Yes, I did. Was that a problem?"

"You tell me."

Ken felt himself grow a little irritated at the way the chief was speaking to him. Chief Brody was always kind of an abrasive guy, and Ken had taken a lot of guff from him in the past, but somehow, things felt different. He did feel a little bad about missing his shift, but that was just a fluke. He didn't feel like being lectured – not when he was the top officer at the station, with the possible exception of Hobble.

"What's been going on lately, Lipsky?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I can't even remember the last time you took a day off before these last two weeks. And I don't remember you missin' a shift, _ever_. Not to mention the noise complaints we've been getting' from a few of your neighbors."

"Noise complaints?" he asked.

"That's right. Hammerin' away late into the night, that kinda thing. Lipsky, I had Officer Jensen stop by your house the other day to see what was goin' on, and he said you got all kinds of junk in your garage, like it was some kinda mechanic's shop. He said a few of those things looked illegal. And dangerous, too. I'm not really interested in sniffin' around any more than that, but you gotta clean that stuff up. It's affectin' your job performance. And after what happened with your son at that college, too – come on, Lipsky!"

Ken felt a hot stab of indignation. Brody had sent Jensen to his house without telling him about it? It must have happened while he was working at the station. And here the chief was giving him a hard time about things when someone like Jensen barely did _any_ work, other than snooping, apparently. Sometimes it was like Ken and Hobble held up the station by themselves. Even the chief wasn't exactly a slave to his job. Ken had never really been appreciated at the station, and for so long, he felt like he had just taken it without any complaint.

"We count on you here, Lipsky," said Chief Brody. "You're one of our best officers. I just don't wanna see you slippin' in your duties and slackin' off. Plus, and this is just between you and me," - the chief leaned a little closer in his desk - "well, you know Global Justice, right?"

Ken nodded. He was vaguely aware of the organization. Some of the officers talked about how they heard it was set up right underneath downtown Middleton, but as for what it did, or what kind of justice it dealt in, nobody seemed to know for sure. They didn't even know whether it was classified, although one or two particularly hard-working officers at the station had supposedly gone off to work for them after quitting. The chief had mentioned them a couple of times before, suggesting he was in with them as a sort of bragging right, but he had never gone into details. Ken was always skeptical if the chief really knew anything about them. But now that he was bringing them up again, he couldn't help finding himself intrigued.

"This is just what I heard on the grapevine," said the chief. "I got friends in high places, you know. But I heard they were keepin' an eye on your son and his friends."

"What?"

"Something about the dawn of a technological age, how more and more power can be abused by individuals. Apparently Drew and his buddies at MIST are some of the smartest students, even if your son doesn't exactly do very well grade-wise. I've heard some weird stuff, Ken. Stuff about supervillains. I just figure your son might be attractin' the wrong kind of attention, especially after that crazy cybertronic battlesuit incident. So I dunno what you two are doing in that garage, but you gotta cut it out, for both your sakes."

Ken still felt indignant, but he also felt worried. Who did Global Justice think they were? How did they even have any jurisdiction over anything? They weren't part of the Middleton Police Department – who _were_ they? He felt angry that shadowy people he had never seen could be making snap judgments about his son. So Drew had made a few mistakes, so he didn't value authority in quite the same way that his father did. That didn't make the boy a supervillain. And even if he _was_ a supervillain – well, it was a knee-jerk thought, but Ken couldn't help thinking it. He would still be Drew. His son was his son, no matter what he did. He began to feel very tired of this conversation.

"You said my shift was almost over?"

The police chief nodded.

"Can I go home?"

"What, you wanna leave early? After what I told you?"

"That's right. You're not going to fire me either, Brody. I'm your top officer, so don't give me any of that."

The chief stared in shock as Ken stormed out of the door, heading through the main office. A few of his fellow officers glanced up from their desk work, sensing some kind of drama, and his partner, Hobble, looked like he wanted to talk, but Ken wasn't really in the mood for talking. He passed through the lobby and out the station's front doors, taking the steps two at a time and hitting the sidewalk on his way to the nearby supply store where his son would be shopping.

After that conversation, Ken didn't really know what to think. On the one hand, he felt a thrill over telling off Chief Brody. He had never done that to the man before. _Never_. And it was long overdue, too. But on the other hand, Ken couldn't help feeling a hesitation, a hand pulling him back from the precipice. He had been unhappy lately – unhappy with his job, unhappy with the way he felt disconnected from his son – and things were changing. But they were changing so quickly. And he needed that job. Maybe he was right, maybe Brody wouldn't fire him, but what if he did? His family depended on him. He couldn't just fly off the handle like that.

He reached Sammy's Supply Superstore. Inside, he found his son browsing through the metal aisle, picking up various sheets and looking them over. "Drew," he said. "We can go home now."

"You don't have a shift?"

"No."

"Excellent! I found a few pieces at a discount, and I was thinking-"

"Drew," said Ken, "look. Maybe we shouldn't be doing all this stuff. Maybe – it's just that this is the kind of stuff that got you into so much trouble in college, right? It's interesting, but you have to take responsibility and stop fooling around with this all the time."

"What are you talking about? I thought you said you were really interested in this."

"I am," he said. "I am, but it's just-"

"Did Chief Brody say something to you? What happened at the station?"

"He was worried, but he made some good points, Drew."

"What does _that_ fool know about Neutronium Induction Machines, hmm?"

"Drew, do you know how close you came to getting arrested after those campus shenanigans?"

Drew's eyes narrowed into a glare, although for some reason, Ken got the distinct impression that his son was not angry as him so much as Chief Brody. Ken couldn't blame him – Brody was a pain – and yet he knew he wasn't getting through to his son. He felt helpless. He had enjoyed bonding with Drew over the last two weeks, but when it came right down to it, he _was_ a police officer. That was his calling. He needed to think about his job, and he didn't want his son going down the wrong path. If all these strange, bizarre inventions ultimately led him into a criminal lifestyle, then wouldn't that mean Ken had failed as a father?

"I'm not going home," said Drew. "I'm going to stay here and buy what we need to finish our project."

"Drew, your mother is probably waiting with dinner."

"Then tell her I'll be there soon."

Ken hesitated a moment. He watched as his son stubbornly looked over the shelf of supplies, poking here and there and trying to pretend like he was absorbed in the task. He knew his son wasn't going to change his mind. Too stubborn. Drew always did things his way. But Chief Brody hadn't left Ken much of a choice – he needed to take charge. Maybe he didn't like his job the way he used to like it, maybe he didn't like Brody, but he had obligations. He had duties. And he needed to do what was best for his son.

XX

It was a narrow escape, but he had made it. He had gotten to the Space Center.

He only had four allies with him – Myron, Ted, Shego, and Eddie, who had ended up running off from the hangar into the forest with him, not knowing where he was supposed to be going. It wasn't much, but four was enough. He didn't need many allies for a hostage situation, and Shego alone could probably hold anyone who tried to prevent him from carrying out the final phase of Operation Moonshaker. Which was the launching phase. Unless the launching phase was the second-to-last phase, and the final phase was collecting ransom money and accepting the world's complete submission. He had left a checklist back at the lair, but Kim Possible probably had her hands on it by now.

Either way, this was the most important phase. They had just reached the gated checkpoint outside the Space Center's employee parking lot, unmolested and unpursued. With no teens or GJ agents in sight, nothing could stop him.

"Stop right there!"

It was Frank, the security guard, leaning out of his guardhouse window.

"Hello, Frank. It is I, Dieter."

"Nice to see ya, Dieter – good thing you're here, the launch is gonna start any minute."

"Yes, I am running a little late. If you vould not mind letting me through-"

"I'm afraid I can't admit any unauthorized personnel through the checkpoint, sir."

Frank motioned to Shego, Eddie, Myron, and Ted. Dementor frowned; they had parked the hovercraft just outside of the Space Center's employee parking area and approached the checkpoint, since he had been used to doing that ever since he started his undercover job as an intern. But in all the excitement of escaping from the lair, he forgot how strange it would look to be coming through the back with four strangers in tow. Now that he thought about it, he really should have just flown over the gated entrance and parked in the parking lot itself, instead of trying to conceal the hovercraft. Ah well. Hindsight was 20/20.

"Dese are just mine friends, Frank," said Dementor. "You cannot make an exception?"

"I'm afraid not, sir."

Dementor shrugged. It had been worth a try.

"Shego?"

The woman threw a ball of green plasma at Frank, which knocked him back into the guardhouse. While Frank lay in a stunned heap, Shego vaulted through the window and looked around for a moment until she found a pair of handcuffs conveniently hanging from the wall, using them to cuff Frank inside. She pressed a button on the control panel beneath the guardhouse window and vaulted back out again as the gates slid open, clearing their way forward. Dementor nodded in thanks as they entered the employee parking lot.

"Sorry, Frank."

Before they reached the building, he paused for a moment, almost forgetting something.

"Eddie," he said. "can you stay back at the guardhouse?"

"Say what? Dude, you're gonna make me miss all the fun – seriously!"

"Oh, no, you von't miss all de fun. I need you to be there in case I need to communicate vith you. Take this vith you," he said, fishing a remote control out of his slacks and passing it to Drew's mulleted cousin. "If I call out to the guardhouse und tell you to press it, you must press it. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I guess so," said Eddie.

Clearly, he wasn't happy to be left behind. Dementor didn't trust Myron or Ted to do the job properly, even it _was_ just pressing a button. While he didn't trust Eddie much more, he wanted Shego by his side for muscle in case things got hairy in the Space Center, and despite his bulk, he had no idea if Eddie even knew how to throw a good punch. And he was definitely certain the man couldn't thrown any green plasma. Besides – if things went right, he wouldn't need Eddie at all.

Dementor entered the Space Center with his henchmen- and henchwoman – in tow. As he walked down the hallway, he passed by Vivian Porter coming in the other direction. They always seemed to pass each other on his way to and from work. He nodded at her and flashed a smile, but just like all the other times he had done it, she ignored him. She didn't seem to like him – after a brief conversation when he had first started his internship, she mostly avoided him, even though she seemed friendly with James Possible. This time, she actually _did_ cast a suspicious glance at Shego, Myron, and Ted, before continuing past them.

No matter; nothing she could do about it now.

He arrived at the observation room which overlooked an open courtyard where the launch pad and rocket were set up. He motioned for Myron, Ted, and Shego to wait in the hallway outside. He went through the door. Several scientists were standing in the room, most of them talking together near a control panel just in front of a viewing window that overlooked the launch pad with the rocket. He noticed his unwitting partner in crime, however, sitting at a nearby desk, alone. James got up, looking pleased to see him.

"There you are," he said. "I thought you were going to miss the launch."

"Oh, no," said Dementor. "You guys vould not haf started without me, anyway, would you?"

"Yes, we would have."

Dementor tried to ignore the comment – clearly, James just hadn't thought extensively enough about how important he was to the whole operation. His contributions had been immeasurable. The other scientists walked over, having finished their conversation. "Are we ready to launch?" they said.

"Sure," said James.

"Not quite yet," said Dementor. "Myron, Ted, Shego, please come inside now."

His henchmen came through the door, gathering closely around James to make sure he didn't try to make a run for it. Not that Dementor really needed him anyway, but then, there was something satisfying in the father of his enemy watching his plan for global domination succeed. Not only that, but he had actually enjoyed James Possible's company during his time as an intern – he felt fairly certain that the man would have a certain respect for his plan, once he saw it carried out.

"I am sorry to say dis, James, but mine name is not Dieter. It is your daughter's arch enemy, DEMENTOR!"

"You don't say? I always thought Shego was her arch enemy."

"I am," confirmed Shego.

Dementor ignored the annoying correction. James didn't seem all that surprised at the revelation of who he really was, but he continued anyway. "I haf been fooling you dis whole time – my internship was a ruse, designed to give me access to the Middleton Space Center facilities. Specifically, your moon rocket launch project! I haf hidden a Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer on the rover dat will be deployed from the landing module once our rocket reaches de moon."

Dementor noticed the other scientists standing around and gawking at the sudden turn of events. He was happy to brag to them, but they _could_ pose a security risk. "All of you," he said, waving at them. "GET OUT!"

The scientists filed out of the laboratory, leaving him with only James and his henchmen.

"Why are you doing this?" asked James.

Dementor scratched his head. "I really haf to explain dat? I vant to take over de world! If mine demands are not met, and I am not installed as Supreme Leader within, say, a couple of hours, I vill set off de Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer on the moon, causing untold catastrophe for the earth! What kind of catastrophe, I am not exactly sure, I did not do a lot of de scientific research yet, but no one vants to see de moon gone! Myron, Ted, bring up a link to de PRESIDENT OF DE UNITED STATES!"

Myron and Ted stared dully at each other for a moment.

"Uh, boss," said Myron, "how do we do that?"

Before Dementor could respond, the sound of loud, marching footsteps began to grow louder. They were coming from the hallway outside the observation room. Maybe those stupid scientists were coming back to – no, it wasn't the scientists. Dementor took a step back in alarm as a number of Global Justice agents suddenly poured into the room. Why hadn't Eddie called him from the guardhouse about their arrival? This was unacceptable! He regained his cool, however, grabbing James Possible by the arm and keeping him close as the agents surrounded them. This did _not_ look good – but he still had the upper hand.

Behind the agents, Kim Possible and her sidekick were the last two people through the door. They joined the agents, Kim looking a little concerned for her father, but still unable to resist crossing her arms in a self-satisfied gesture of victory. Dementor always hated it when she did that.

"Looks like your plan isn't gonna be lifting off," said Kim.

He knew James wouldn't be helping him launch the rocket now. Fortunately, that didn't matter.

"I believe it VILL, Kim Possible! Aahahahaha!"

He stabbed wildly at the launch button on the control panel beside him.

Nothing happened.

"Did you think I was going to let you come in here and launch that rocket?" said James. We didn't know where the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer was, but once my Kimmie-cub called from your cottage lair and said it was missing, I had a good idea it was probably already on the rocket. I'm sure they'll be taking it off at any moment. And I knew you weren't Dieter since this last Saturday, by the way."

Dementor's eyes bugged out. "Vat? How did you figure it out?"

More footsteps rang out from beyond the observation room's door. Dementor looked past Kim, Rob – or whatever his name was – and all the Global Justice agents as a figure appeared behind them all. They moved aside as the man joined the loose ring of Dementor's foes. He felt the adrenaline rush of triumph slip away, plummeting into the jagged pit of betrayal. It couldn't be. He had come back to the cottage, he had said he'd had some time to think things over. He had said he was on board, things were-

But he had been double crossed.

"Hello, _stepfather_," said Drakken.

"Why did you betray me, mine son?"

"I'm _not_ your son. And this was the only way to get you out of my home. I talked to Global Justice this weekend and made a deal in which I get a pardon for all past activities – escaping from prison and the Li'l Diablo incident in particular – in exchange for helping them capture you. And a guarantee that I would never engage in supervillainy again, of course."

"Dat is a lie, you know," said Dementor to the agents. "You know dat is a lie."

"Absolutely not!" protested Drakken. "It's the honest truth!"

His own son, stabbing him the back. Dementor couldn't believe it.

"I told Kim Possible and Global Justice to come to the lair and take you by surprise, and my henchmen would help defeat you, but unfortunately, you had moved the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer without my knowledge. I knew we needed to find that, so instead, I sent you off with that ruse about my holding our enemies back. I waited at the lair and caught Kim Possible to tell her we needed to let you come here and reveal the location of the Vortex Inducer before we could stop you. Which you have done."

"You haf FAILED to consider one thing," said Dementor.

"What is that?"

"I had planned for de possibility dat James Possible might find out!"

Dementor pressed the intercom button on the control panel and patched it out to the guard house. After working as an intern at the Space Center for weeks, did James really think he didn't know how things worked? Maybe the man had disabled the launch button from the observation room itself, but Dementor had direct access to the rocket out in the courtyard. "Eddie," he said. "Are you dere?" He hoped Drew's cousin hadn't been captured, as this was his last shot.

"Yeah, dude, I'm here. There were, like, all these Global Justice suits coming through the gates, but I hid in some bushes until they went away. Seriously!"

Several GJ agents seemed to catch on to the fact that he was about to pull something. They rushed forward to stop him – along with Kim Possible herself – but Shego, Myron and Ted rushed forward to stop _them_. They would be overrun quickly, but they held back his attackers long enough for him to carry out his failsafe option.

"Dat is nice," he told Eddie. "Press de button!"

"Done!"

_Rocket launch initiated_, spoke a voice over the PA system. _Liftoff in T minus ten seconds..._

Dementor cackled gleefully. Kim and the agents stopped fighting, as if realizing they had missed their opportunity. Out on the launch pad, beyond the glass window that overlooked it from the control room, plumes of smoke began to rise up from beneath the rocket, followed by a low rumbling sensation that vibrated the floor beneath them.

_T minus seven seconds..._

His foes looked dismayed. Except for James. For some reason, James Possible was still giving him an insufferable smirk. He could see where his daughter got the expression from.

_T minus five seconds..._

"You don't think I was just going to let you launch that, did you?"

"Vat? Vat do you mean?"

"You know, it really gets my goat that you just wasted months of time and effort by our team here at the Space Center, but that rocket isn't going to the moon. I reprogrammed the coordinates after Drakken came over and gave us the plan over the weekend, just in case you did have something nasty planned. It's going right off into deep space. Unless, of course, you can reprogram the coordinates for the moon landing."

_Liftoff._

Everyone looked out at the launch pad as the rocket rose up into the air. It was a magical sight to see, really – with the sheer bulk of that thing, Dementor was amazed that it could even get off the ground. It didn't look like something that was supposed to fly anywhere, much less across the cosmos, but there it was, defying all expectations and rising up into the bright blue afternoon sky over Middleton. James chuckled. Dementor knew it was because he had been outmaneuvered. Although his work was indispensable to the Space Center's moon launch project, Dementor knew he could not actually program the rocket to _go_ to the moon. And his was surrounded by GJ agents and Kim Possible, anyway – it wasn't like they'd give him the opportunity to sit down at the control panel and figure it out.

The jig was up. He had tried, and failed. Not just with Operation Moonshaker, but with his son, too. Even his wife was probably against him know – if Drakken had been plotting against him, Claudia probably knew the truth about his profession. She knew he was no radio host. His plans, dreams, and family, all torn apart.

"Come over here, Shego," said Drakken. "You've been pardoned by Global Justice. Don't make them angry."

Shego glanced at Dementor and shrugged as she rejoined Drakken. His faithful henchmen, Myron and Ted, looked around nervously at the agents surrounding them. "What about us?" they said. "Are we pardoned?"

Kim shook her head.

"Don't worry, though," said Ron. "Henchmen don't do much time."

Myron breathed a sigh of relief and gave Ted a high five.

Dementor, feeling completely drained, didn't even try to struggle as a couple of Global Justice agents approached him and put him in handcuffs, leading him out of the observation room. He looked back at his son, who watched him leave with an inscrutable expression. He wasn't cackling and pointing in triumph, at least – not adding insult to injury. What had he done wrong? He had tried so hard. He had tried to be a father, tried to reach out, but it was all for nothing. Maybe supervillains and fatherhood just didn't mix.

His son disappeared from sight as the agents closed the door behind them.

XX

It was obvious something had happened at the police station.

Drew had never trusted that police chief. He had only met him a couple of times, but his father had complained about him before. And that was the man responsible for having his father work such long hours for nothing but a meager paycheck, after all. His father would never come right out and say it, but Drew didn't think anyone at the station appreciated him, except maybe his friend Hobble.

He knew his father was more of a traditionalist when he was – more respectful of authority, more committed to the idea that society needed to follow the law if it was going to function – but even if that was true, the Middleton Police Department had never sounded like it cared as much as he did. They took him for granted. And now that his father was growing tired of the job, he was turning to Drew's wild, wayward ways. Maybe Drew could make him see the light.

As long as they hadn't changed his mind somehow.

He had bought the steel plating at a discount – he usually got a discount, since he was a frequent buyer – and he was on his way back to the house. Evening was beginning to set in, and he knew his mother and father would be waiting for him with dinner. Maybe afterwards they could work on the Neutronium Induction Machine some more. His father couldn't possibly choose boring, routine police work over the allure of science, could he?

Drew reached his neighborhood, coming down the sidewalk with a bag hanging from each hand. He had bought a few other things for the Neutronium Machine, as well as some comics from a nearby comic shop. He passed over a neighbor's property as a shortcut, cutting across to the street with his house on the other side. He reached the sidewalk, saw his house across the road. But something was wrong. There were things piled outside. The garage doors were open. Like someone was doing some cleaning. He saw his father outside, placing an old invention to the side of the driveway and going back in. What was he – was he cleaning everything out?

"Father, what are you doing?"

His father looked across the street and saw him.

"Cleaning up," he said.

Drew frowned. This was bad. They had gotten to him. But his father was just a little nervous about trying something new, maybe a little spooked after Drew had come close to getting in serious trouble at MIST – he could be talked out of this. This was just a temporary setback. Drew reached the edge of the street, about to cross to the other side where his own driveway met the house, when he saw his father pick up the Neutronium Induction Machine from its water bath. He lifted its hefty bulk, water dripping from the bottom, and began to take it out of the garage.

Drew dropped the bags to the sidewalk as a rush of fear surged through him like a wave.

"_Father!_ Put that back in-"

The explosion took him off his feet before he even knew what had happened. He went flying back, hitting the grass beside the sidewalk, feeling a wave of heat wash over him, a sound like a thunderclap assaulting his eardrums. He lay stunned for a moment, his ears ringing; on his face, he felt a strange stinging sensation. He reached up and felt beneath his left eye. There was a cut there, painful to the touch.

He looked at his fingers, glistening with blood.

He sat up.

Around him, on the grass, on the sidewalk, in the road, were shards of glass and wood, pieces of broken debris. Some of it was still raining down. He saw a shard of glass in the grass, one edge sharp and red. It must have been the one that slashed him beneath the eye. Pieces of ash, and what looked like burnt paper, floated lazily down from the sky like black snow. The orange burst of flame from the garage was already blackening. It curled back on itself as it rose up from the remains of the garage like an flower unfurling. The station wagon, which had been parked in the driveway, was pushed forward by the blast, halfway into the street, its windows blown out.

The Neutronium Induction Machine had been removed from its stabilizing water bath. Its metal shielding was not yet finished. That had caused the blast. He should have told his father earlier, should have warned him - but to Drew, it was just a given. It was basic, to him. He hadn't expected his father to move it without him. He hadn't given enough consideration to the fact that he was working with a neophyte, with someone who didn't share his scientific knowledge. He had been too reckless. He saw his mother open the front door and step out into the yard. Her face was frozen in shock as she looked across to the smoldering cave that had once been the garage.

She hadn't been caught by the blast; she was alright.

But his father was gone.


	16. Leaving Drew

**Leaving Drew**

XX

There was no going back. Not to college, and not to the way things used to be.

Last week, Drew had sold the first invention he could ever remember selling. It felt wrong, somehow - like he wasn't just selling it, but selling _out_. Not only that, but he had sold it to the Middleton Space Center. As far as he was concerned, that place was a dead end bureaucratic trap run by the _man_. The same man who had held him down in college, the man who James Possible and Bob Chen and Ramesh Cha – whatever his last name was – would all be working for once they graduated. Drew had no use for institutions, for places where he had to submit a resume and let his inferiors judge him before they gave him a paltry paycheck at the end of every work period. He was better than that. He would be the one judging his inferiors.

Someday, people would be begging for his favor.

He had used the money he got from his invention to buy a used car for himself. A four-door with a big trunk, mainly so he had more room to cart his remaining inventions with him when he moved out. He was in the process of doing so now – the car was parked alongside his mother's station wagon out on the driveway. It was surprising how little he had to pack up. Most of his inventions had been in the garage. And that, of course, was gone.

Well, not exactly gone. Some workmen had come to tear it down and rebuild it a couple of weeks ago, about a week after the explosion. Even though it was brand new, even though it looked different than the old one, looking around at the garage reminded him of what had happened. It was still hard to acknowledge it. He hadn't wanted to talk to anyone after what had happened. James had tried calling him a couple of times since the incident, probably to see how things were going while he was on his break from college after the Pinky Joe incident, but even if he _hadn't_ already decided to break things off with his friends, even if he hadn't decided he was through with college, he still wouldn't have wanted to talk to James. It was hard to even talk to his _mother_ anymore.

Drew turned his thoughts to a last remaining invention, a ray gun which shot a Photon Beam – modeled off of something he and James had seen in an episode of _Captain Constellation_ while they were in college, actually. He stepped out through the open garage door, into the driveway, and threw it into his car's trunk with the other equipment. That about did it. Drew couldn't think of anything else he needed to take with him. He was ready to go. Ready to start a new life. Ready to-

"Drewbie! Did you pack any clothes?"

His mother stepped out of the front door.

"Ah, I must have forgotten, mother."

"That's okay!" she said, waving a duffel bag she was holding. "I packed some for you."

"Thank you, mother."

Claudia ambled out to Drew's new car, looking for a space in the trunk to pack the duffel bag, but finally giving up and placing it in the back seat instead. The two of them stood awkwardly in front of each other for a moment. Drew was beginning to sweat under the afternoon sun; not only that, but he didn't want to face his mother. Not when he was leaving. It was maddening, the way she seemed to keep her obliviously happy demeanor even after what had happened, despite the fact that he knew she didn't really feel that way.

"So you're really leaving, honey?"

"Yes, mother. I need to be my own man."

"But you _are_ your own man, Drewbie. You're my little boy, too, but you can be both!"

"I'm not so sure about that."

"Is this all because of some girl, Drewbie?"

"No, mother. There are no girls in my life."

"Such a handsome boy like you, I don't understand – there must be a girl!"

Drew felt dizzy at how quickly his mother's question about potential romantic interests shifted from suspicion to encouragement. "I'm leaving to be more independent, mother. And this is better for you, too – we both saw what happened. My interests can be very dangerous, and I don't want you to be in any danger. I need my own space to carry out my experiments."

"But where are you going to go?"

"I don't know yet."

"How will you pay for yourself, sweetie? You need a job if you want to be your own man."

"I will have a job, mother. Don't worry."

"What kind of job?"

Drew hadn't really thought about that. And to be honest, it wasn't like he had any kind of job lined up. He was planning on relying on his own genius, but how exactly that worked out in practical terms, he wasn't sure. One thing he knew for sure, however, was that he'd never fit in behind a desk. He could never punch the clock, work in the rat race, chase that cheese, American dream, deluxe apartment in the sky – he had lost track of his expressions. The point was, whatever he was doing, it was going to be off the beaten path. But he wasn't sure that was what his mother wanted to hear.

"I'm going to work in the radio business."

"Really?"

"Yes, that's right. I have a few offers on the table. Maybe I'll have my own show someday."

His mother looked skeptical, but she finally smiled and nodded, wincing in the bright sunlight. "That would be nice," she said, adjusting her sunglasses. "Are you gonna call me when you get moved in?"

"Of course."

"I'll come visit you, too, and make sure you're eating right! I don't want you eating nothing but noodles and TV dinners like you did in college, Drewbie."

"They _did_ have dining facilities, mother."

"Yes, but we both know you and James were always working in your dormitory instead of socializing."

"I'll eat well, I promise. And of course you can come visit."

His mother sighed, as if she couldn't think of any more objections. She had been against the idea of his leaving at first, but Drew had insisted – and it wasn't long before she gave in. "Alright then," she said. "I'm going to miss you, Drewbie."

Drew hugged his mother. Her frizzy red hair tickled his nose, and he held back not just a sneeze, but the first hint of a tear. Even if he was nervous about leaving his mother's wing, this was something he needed to do. He couldn't quite put his finger on the reason, really – maybe it was to keep his mother safe, like he said, or – again, like he said – maybe it was because he knew he needed to grow up. He had always been closer to his mother than his father, always letting himself be pampered and protected, but his father was gone now. He couldn't just retreat further into her company – he had to set out and be the man he was destined to be.

"Goodbye, mother."

"I love you, Drewbie."

"I love you too."

Drew got into his car, turning and glancing over the back seat one last time to make sure he had everything he needed. He pulled out of the driveway, waving goodbye to his mother as she stood in the yard and watched him leave. He started down the street, watching in the rear-view mirror as his neighborhood fell away behind him.

He knew, more than anything else, it was because he needed to get out of that house. After what had happened, being so close to the scene of the crime, it was just too much. It made him feel sad. It reminded him of his loss just when he had been growing close to his father. And it made him feel guilty-

But no. He shouldn't feel guilty. Drew had told himself that before, and he told himself that again. It wasn't his fault. Everything had been under control until his father's boss had interfered, until that mysterious meeting at the station which had somehow changed his father's mind and started him cleaning up the garage. It was the police station that had killed him. An institution, just like the Space Center, or the college. Or any other place where they expected you to play by the rules, to do whatever they told you to do.

He loved his father, but in the end, Ken Lipsky's love for authority had been his undoing. He had let himself get caught in a system that he didn't like; their bonding over Drew's scientific and technical interests in those last couple of weeks before his death had confirmed all of that. His father had been forced into a life he didn't want, held down by responsibility and obligations. He had been controlled by his work, taken for granted by his fellow officers and by the police chief, even though he had excelled at being a police officer.

Drew wasn't going to make those mistakes. No one would ever tell him what to do. He would _never_ lay down and let his enemies walk all over him. He was going to take things into his own hands - and nothing in the world would stand in his way!

XX

"Definitely," said Drakken. "I'm definitely turning a new leaf."

He tried to ignore the skeptical look Shego was giving him; if she was too obvious about it, she'd blow his cover. Of course he was lying, but they needed to put up a good show while they were still under the watchful eye of Global Justice and Kim Possible. He and Shego were sitting at the kitchen table of the Possible residence with Kim, her parents, her sidekick, and Dr. Director.

Dr. Director had wanted to hold the meeting at GJ's headquarters underneath Middleton, but Drakken didn't want to step into any possible traps they had set up for him; he didn't trust Global Justice any more than he trusted his so-called stepfather. They had rejected all his suggestions for meeting locations, until finally Kim had suggested her own house, to which Drakken had reluctantly agreed, coming to their meeting to try to sell them on the idea that he wasn't a threat anymore. He had even brought details of his failed internet hypnosis scheme to curry favor, seeing as he had no use for it anymore, anyway. Dr. Director had just handed over a certificate which officially pardoned himself and his family for all past crimes, at which Drakken couldn't help feeling a kind of gloating pleasure. He might even frame it.

"So where is Dementor, anyway?" he asked.

"We're keeping him in a highly secure Global Justice holding facility," said Dr. Director. "He won't be getting out anytime soon. I'm sure you're happy your main supervillain competitor is behind bars."

Drakken narrowed his eyes. Dr. Director and her cohorts still didn't seem to trust him. Not that they had any reason to. He and Shego would have to lay low for a while, but sooner or later, with their newfound legal freedom, they'd be able to get back into the supervillain business again, without Dementor all up in their business. Maybe they'd never shake off Global Justice, but gaining a temporary respite by turning in his stepfather certainly didn't hurt.

"So why _did_ you turn in Dieter?" asked James.

"Who?"

"Oh, sorry – Dementor," said James. "That's what he called himself at the Space Center."

"I turned him in so I could get a pardon, of course."

James nodded with just the faintest hint of a smirk, which Drakken tried to ignore. It was obvious his ex-friend didn't believe him either. He was trying to get a rise out of him, too.

"He _did_ want to be your father, you know."

"Why do you say that?" said Drakken. "He just wanted to take over my lair and my life, that's all."

"I don't think so. From the way he talked to me at the Space Center, it sounded like he was really trying to be a good father. I can see how the little guy could get on a person's nerves if they had to live with him, but maybe you should have been more appreciative."

"Appreciative? Of my sworn enemy infiltrating my lair? You don't know what you're talking about."

James shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, the things he told me at the Space Center..."

"Like what?"

"You'll never know."

Drakken fumed. Now it was _obvious_ that James was trying to get under his skin.

"I guess I was surprised to find out you were the son he kept talking about," said James. "You know, Drew, there's nothing more valuable than family. They're the people you can count on when the chips are down, when you're going through your darkest days – for instance, when my daughter just stopped one of your schemes dead in its tracks. If you can't count on family, then-"

"I don't need your lecturing, James," said Drakken. "Dementor isn't my father, and he isn't my family."

"Who says blood is the only measure of family? Look at Ronald here – he's part of the Possible clan."

"Thanks, Mr. Dr. P!"

Drakken peered at Kim's sidekick. He was here at the Possible household even though he really had nothing to contribute. And he had always been by Kim Possible's side, even before the two teens began a relationship. So maybe he _was_ a part of the Possible family. But it didn't matter – that was different. Drakken had never asked for a new father, much less an insufferable know-it-all of a stepfather who laughed at his schemes, commandeered his home without asking, and worst of all, committed unspeakable acts with his mother in the upstairs bedroom.

"Are we finished?" he asked.

Dr. Director nodded. "We'll be keeping an eye on you."

"I'm sure. Come on, Shego. Let's get out of here."

He had his pardon, as Global Justice had promised, and he had made at least a half-hearted effort to convince Km Possible and Dr. Director that he wasn't going to be leaping back into supervillainy the minute he got it, although he doubted either of them believed him. But the meeting was over. He left the house and stepped into the suburban neighborhood where Kim Possible lived. It reminded him very much of the neighborhood where he had lived with his mother and father long ago. Actually, seeing as Middleton _was_ his home town, that neighborhood was technically just a few blocks away.

"What are you thinking about, Shego?"

Shego had been quiet ever since they went to the meeting. Ever since Dementor had been carted off from the Space Center to prison – or whatever the Global Justice equivalent was. She seemed to have something weighing on her mind. Drakken was trying to be positive and keep up a celebratory mood now that his stepfather had been removed from his home, but to be honest, it hadn't been working very well. His henchwoman's sad sack attitude was starting to bring him down. Or maybe it was something more which was bringing him down. But Drakken didn't know what that could be.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said as the two of them got into the hovercraft.

"It's nothing, Doctor D. Let's just go home."

Drakken shrugged and settled into the passenger's seat, still clutching the pardon in his hands, which he had rolled up and tied with a rubber band. Shego took the controls. She liked to fly the hovercraft, especially after that unfortunate ferry boat incident when Drakken had the controls, which had just been a freak accident – no one's fault at all, really. The hovercraft lifted into the sky and picked up speed in the direction of Lowerton. His lair was probably a mess, but the cottage would be peaceful and quiet, devoid of any tiny Teutonic terrors and their oversized voices. He could read a book, maybe. Start a new scheme. Or just sit on the couch and enjoy some solitude.

Although, now that he thought about it, Eddie and his mother would still be there. The thought of his mother shot down his already feeble attempts at maintaining a good mood. They would need to have a chat. And that filled him with dread.

XX

"So what do you think?"

Dr. Director tapped a finger against the kitchen table.

"I don't think he can be trusted. But at least we have Dementor."

"Still, what a way to go," said Ron. "Betrayed by your own stepson! Hamlet style!"

Kim was kind of surprised by the literary reference, especially considering they had read the play for school a couple of years ago – she would have thought her boyfriend would have forgotten about that by now. But sometimes he could surprise her. Not as surprising, however, was Dr. Director's assessment of Drakken. It was pretty much what Kim thought, too. Drakken had used them to beat his stepfather, which seemed a little underhanded to Kim, but then, he was a supervillain. It was what they did.

"I must go back to the Global Justice headquarters," said Dr. Director. "I have a lot of work to do, and Agent Du gets nervous when I'm gone for too long."

Dr. Director left the kitchen. Kim listened to the front door closing – just a moment later, however, she heard the sound of the front door opening again, and Wade appeared in the kitchen. Hopefully their little meeting with Drakken would have some benefits, if their tech genius friend had succeeded.

"It's chipped," said Wade. "They tried to hide the hovercraft behind some bushes, but they didn't really park far away. I found it, got the chip on, and dashed off to hide right before they came by."

"So we can track them now?" asked Ron.

"That's the idea."

"That's some sneaky stuff, dude. Planting tracking chips on people – you're like a supervillain in the making!"

"Wha – what? Who said _people_?"

"Well, I meant hovercrafts."

"Oh, right. Hovercrafts. Haha!"

Wade and Kim both laughed nervously.

"You almost blew it, though, Mr. Dr. P!"

James, who had asked his daughter if he could sit at the kitchen table and listen to the meeting just out of sheer curiosity over his former friend's freakish family situation, raised an eyebrow as he sipped a mug of coffee. "How do you mean, Ronald?"

"You were telling Drakken he shouldn't have stabbed his stepdad in the back and stuff. It's like you were _trying_ to get them to team up and be partners in evil. You don't wanna encourage supervillains, believe me! Me and KP figured that out with the Seniors."

"Um, Ron, I think _you_ figured that out with the Seniors. I didn't give them any Spinning Tops of Doom ideas."

"Details, KP!"

"Well," said James, sounding a little defensive, "I wasn't trying to tell Drew to partner up with Dieter. I guess I was just trying to make sense of the whole thing. What a strange pair they would make, though, wouldn't they?"

Kim had to agree with that. Everyone sat at the table for a moment, digesting everything that had happened, while James got up to get some fresh coffee for himself. Ron's gave a little jerk as he remembered something important.

"So who won the bet?"

Kim thought about it. "We took down Dementor, so I win."

"Wait, what? Technically we took down Drakken first. I mean, we got Frugal Lucre, but that was Drakken's plan all along – he was the one working behind the scenes. Plus, Drakken turned to our side before we got Dementor, which is pretty much the same thing as taking him down."

"Um, no way! You're totally trying to weasel out of paying for a shopping spree at Club Banana, Ron."

"I resent that accusation! You just don't wanna buy me tons of pizza and watch me be awesome at arcade games!"

"Dad, which one of us won?"

James coughed nervously and set down the coffee mug. "I don't know the details of the bet."

"You don't need to. It just depends on whether we took down Drakken or Dementor first."

"I'm not sure I can be an impartial judge, Kimmie-cub."

"Why, because I'm your daughter?"

"No," said Ron. "He means because I'm _clearly_ right. Besides, he said I was family, too!"

Kim narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend. There was no way he was winning this.

"How about a tie?" suggested James.

Both of them gaped at her father. A tie? That was the _last_ thing they wanted!

Speaking of ties, James adjusted his own tie and gulped at the looks he was getting. Kim waited impatiently for a judgment on the matter. Clearly, her father didn't want to be the judge. Unfortunately, Wade had just wandered off into another room in an obvious attempt to avoid the duty, and her mother was off doing some kind of frontal lobe surgery at the hospital. Kim sighed. Just this one time, she might have to let Ron share her victory.

XX

After they passed over the forested outskirts of Lowerton, following the winding gravel road beneath them until they reached the little clearing that contained their cottage, Drakken could already see Global Justice had left its mark. He hadn't gotten much of a chance to look over the place after he met up with his foes down in the lair and raced off to stop Dementor at the Middleton Space Center, but he could already guess what state the lair was probably in. Just around the cottage's entrance, he could see his forsythia bushes were trampled, either by GJ boots or by the troop transport carriers they had brought with them. It wasn't like Drakken was a huge flower person, but they had been growing on him. Using a cottage as a cover for an underground lair had been a refreshing change of pace.

Shego took the hovercraft down, retracting the top of the faux-shack a few dozen yards away from the cottage and parking it inside. The two of them got out and headed across the yard. Drakken shook his head at the damage to his shrubbery before coming through the front door – inside, he found his mother sitting at the kitchen table. Eddie was watching television in the living room, having gotten back from the Space Center, covered by the same pardon as Drakken and Shego. He had made sure to keep his _real_ family out of danger.

"Hello, mother."

His mother looked up from her seat. A fork and a plate of strudel lay on the table in front of her, although the strudel was mostly eaten. Just the hint of strudel made Drakken's mouth water. He wondered if there was any left over, but when he looked over at the cake pedestal, it was clear his mother had taken the last piece. It was a good thing his mother knew the recipe now, seeing as Dementor wouldn't be making any more of it for them.

"What happened, Drewbie?"

Drakken sat down at the table. He realized that in all the chaos over the day, his mother probably didn't know a lot of details – she had probably been taken by surprise when Global Justice showed up at their door. He felt bad for springing everything on her, but it was the only way to get rid of his foe. Drakken wondered how he was going to explain things without blowing his radio host cover – he supposed he might be pushing it a little close, but he had to take the risk.

"Dementor was a supervillain, mother. He wasn't working in the radio business – that was just a ruse so he could make it seem like he had something in common with me, so he could get closer to you. He was going off to the Middleton Space Center every day, preparing to launch a rocket to the moon which would deposit a Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer that he could use to blackmail the world into letting him take over. I had to stop him before he ruined things for all of us."

Drakken waited for his mother to deny his claims. She had been married to Dementor, after all, and although he was sure the man had no real love for his mother, his mother _did_ seem to be taken in by all his lies. She might have trouble accepting the truth. But she didn't seem surprised. She didn't seem affected by the news at all, actually.

"I'm sorry about everything, mother, but it had to be done."

"No it didn't, Drewbie. Your father loved you."

"My stepfather. Didn't you hear me tell you he was a supervillain?"

"Yes, I did, sweetie."

Drakken wondered why his mother was acting so unimpressed by his claim.

"I know he was a supervillain."

"What? You mean – you mean you knew when you married him?"

"Yes, I did. He was always talking about his radio show, but you don't need Pan-Dimensional whatchamacallits and underground lairs for a radio show."

Drakken shifted uneasily. How his mother could have picked up on Dementor, and yet not taken the next logical step in that train of-

"I know you're a supervillain too. You don't have to hide it anymore."

The kitchen rang with Drakken's nervous laughter.

"A supervillain? You're talking crazy, mother!"

"I'm no genius like my little boy, but I'm not stupid, Drewbie."

The secret was out. His mother knew.

How long had she known? Why had she never told him? Drakken felt a flush of red creeping across his cheeks – he felt exposed, like he had been called out on something, caught red-handed. He had been hoping that his mother would accept the necessity of what he had done, but he knew it was a little harder to try to use the supervillain thing against Dementor when he had the same pastime. Still, it was just – it was just different. The man was Dementor, for Pete's sake!

"He was _evil_, mother. He was just trying to dupe everybody, he-"

"You don't really believe that, Drewbie. The two of you were starting to bond before that therapy session, he told me about it! You were even interested in his plan. I know you two got into a few arguments with your little supervillain hobby before, but I was hoping you could make up and get along. He really wanted to be your father, you know."

Drakken was silent. He knew there would be no convincing his mother.

"I think I'm going to go home, Drewbie."

"Really?"

"Yes. It looks like you want a little time to yourself."

Drakken couldn't believe it, but for the first time in years, the thought of his mother leaving his lair seemed – well, almost sad. Normally he couldn't wait until she got out of his hair. But this time, even if Dementor had it coming, he knew his mother was an unfortunate victim of the whole ugly fight between him and his foe. This whole conversation was about as bad as he had expected on the flight over to the cottage.

"You don't have to leave, mother. You could stay if you wanted."

"You got what you wanted, Drewbie. I don't want to impose."

Drakken stammered half-heartedly as his mother got up from her chair and began to shuffle out of the kitchen. He followed her out, watching her head to the door. The television blared in the living room. His cousin, however, appeared in the living room entryway and motioned towards the front door. "Uh, I think I'm gonna join Aunt C, dude."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I thought I'd hit the road for a while. Maybe check out what my buddies down in Jersey are up to. Can't stay in one place forever, you know what I mean? Seriously!"

Eddie got to the front door and opened it up for his aunt, who stepped through into the front yard. Drakken watched as his mother glanced back one last time, and then got into her station wagon just as his cousin closed the door. Even before Eddie left, however, he caught his cousin giving him a last glance, hairy brows furrowed in disapproval. So that was why _he_ was leaving, too. Even his cousin had been hoodwinked by Dementor.

Drakken was left standing in the hallway, alone – except for Shego, of course. His right hand woman. He sighed, feeling very morose for someone who had just regained his lair and defeated his greatest supervillain competitor. Since the television was still on, he went into the living room and dropped down on the couch like a sack of potatoes. "Come watch some television with me, Shego," he said wearily.

Shego did not join him on the couch, although he wasn't really paying attention, lost in a kind of stupor.

"Can't believe Eddie left, too," he muttered to himself.

Talking with his mother had already given him a headache; Drakken turned down the volume a little from the blaring level that Eddie had chosen. He flipped channels idly. Wondering why Shego was being so quiet, he looked over his shoulder and saw her leaning against the frame of the living room's entrance. He thought she was watching television at first, but no – she was looking at him. He began to feel a little irritated.

"What's the problem, Shego? Why the silent treatment?"

Shego took a long time to answer.

"You don't think you did anything wrong?"

"What would I have done wrong?"

Shego shrugged. "You know, you guys could have worked together."

"Fat chance of that."

"Why? You're both supervillains – why is that such a strange idea?"

Drakken struggled for an answer before realizing he had none.

"I think you both let your pride get in the way, but you know what? He was the one reaching out to you. You guys could have come up with something better if you had teamed up. You wanted to hypnotize people over the internet, but what makes you think everybody is going to open their emails at the same time? As soon as the word gets out, your plan stops working. And Dementor wanted to put a Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer on the moon when that would have messed things up for him just as much as anybody else if he actually set it off. Not to mention Kim's dad could have probably just disabled the thing whenever he wanted, before it even got to the moon. I mean, Dementor's smart, but he's not a rocket scientist, and he had to depend on an enemy to even get his plan off the ground."

"Oh, so now _you're_ the one with the big plans?" asked Drakken. "It's easy to be an armchair supervillain, Shego."

"How about releasing your hypnosis supervirus on a smaller scale, Doctor D? You could have released it over military networks – the Space Center has government connections, doesn't it? You could have used Dementor's undercover internship as a way in, if you two had actually _talked_ to each other about your plans."

"It's impossible to talk to that man, Shego!"

"Whatever. You guys were starting to get along before you blew up after that therapy session. I don't know what kind of problems you have with father figures, but I don't think you gave him a chance. Stabbing him in the back was pretty low – I don't think even I'd do that."

Drakken was at a loss for words. Even his most trusted confidante was turning on him.

"And what about your mom?" she asked. "She seemed like she really loved him. Do you ever think about her?"

Drakken felt insulted by the accusation. How was he not thinking about her? He had just saved her from an evil little man who was using her for his own ends, marrying her just to get to his foe's lair. And yet, even as he told himself that, he couldn't help wondering if he was rationalizing. Shego's last comment was digging deep.

"Only one person can rule the world, Shego!"

It was like a last-ditch plea. Although with his ego and Dementor's clashing against each other, he knew there was a grain of truth in it. But it didn't really address the family side of things. And Shego was not convinced.

"I think I'm gonna take a vacation, Doctor D."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I need some air. Maybe I'll hang out in Go City for a while."

"You're leaving?"

Shego nodded. She waited a moment longer before turning the corner, out of sight. Drakken listened for a moment until he heard the front door open and shut – and a few moments after that, the sound of the hovercraft in the air, a low hum that receded quickly as he caught a glimpse of it over the trees outside the living room window. Just like his cousin, Shego had left in a hurry.

Now he really _was_ alone. When it came to his stepfather, nobody seemed to understand.

Not only that, but he just realized the hovercraft and the station wagon were both gone now. How was he supposed to go get groceries? This had to be the worst day he could remember in years!

XX

Living on his own had confirmed his suspicions: Drew definitely wasn't cut out for a 9 to 5 job.

In the years since he had moved out of his Middleton home and formally dropped out of college, times had been tough. Almost a decade had passed since then. He had tried doing various odd jobs, sometimes working at internships for a few major corporations which were impressed by his irresistibly suave and independent personality along with his genius in science. None of them had been a good fit. Every single one had rules, policies, expectations, and worst of all – teamwork. Drew hated working on projects where he couldn't choose the subject, where he couldn't order the other team members around at his whim just because they happened to have ten years of experience on him.

He needed to be in charge, and there was no way he was jumping through hoops to get there, either. He felt ashamed that he had even been forced to lower himself to accept internships at corporations – he hadn't been intending to do that, but Drew hadn't really anticipated the need for actual _money_ when you were living on your own. Being independent wasn't free! Sometimes you got caught off-guard by the craziest things...

After that, he had increasingly turned towards crime. Breaking the rules gave him a thrill. He had even stolen from the Middleton Space Center a couple of times, which had been particularly thrilling, considering he had heard his ex-friend James Possible had recently gotten a job there. A crowning moment had been when he stole back that invention he sold to the Space Center in order to buy his first car – it felt like justice had been served. They didn't deserve his invention in the first place. In some of his darkest hours, though, Drew had considered applying to the Space Center himself. But there was no way. _No_ way he would stoop that low. And so he fell into a life of crime, but even that didn't seem fulfilling. It was too small-scale, too mundane.

As far as he could see, that left only one option. It was an option he had been aware of for a long time, that he had encountered on occasion – in comic books, magazines, and occasionally from conversations, like the one with that Avery man he had talked to years ago at his father's police station. It was always just a passing interest, a curiosity, but it was something he was taking more seriously now that it was time to blaze his own trail in life. Something his mother might not like. Something his father _definitely_ wouldn't have liked:

Supervillainy.

He had spent a lot of time researching, looking into how one became a supervillain. What kinds of things one needed to do. One of the most important things, for instance, was buying a lair, which he had recently done. Another task was to get some reliable henchmen, although Drew had fought against that idea for a while, not wanting to believe he'd need any help when it came to world domination. In between his constant inventing, he had come up with various half-formed schemes and poorly-planned capers, sometimes beginning to carry them out, but usually chickening out at the last minute. Although he was loathe to admit it, Drew had learned that supervillainy was easier to read about in comic books than to actually try on for size.

But the pull had been too hard to avoid, and ultimately, it was the one way he could fulfill his dreams. It was the one way he could make sure no one ever stepped on him the way they had done with his father. It was the one way he could make sure he always got what he wanted, and everyone would be forced to recognize his genius. And being a supervillain would mean never having to pay for Cocoa Moo again, which was also a big plus.

But first, he needed to find a good second-in-command. That was one of the things all the books said he needed.

And so here he was, with his first interviewee, who was sitting on the couch in his new lair that still looked mostly like a regular house. The interview seemed to be going well.

"So, what about physical training?" he asked his first prospective right-hand man.

"I know seven types of martial arts."

Drew was impressed. He didn't even _know_ there were seven types of martial arts in the world – he had been under the impression there was Kung Fu, Karate, and maybe something with a 'kwon' in it that he had heard on television once. His interviewee sat on a couch in his new house, briefcase set down on the floor beside him. The man was burly, smartly dressed in a suit and tie, sporting a close crew cut; somehow Drew thought he looked a little big to be a martial artist. But maybe he was judging a book by its cover.

"Can you give me a demonstration?" he asked.

The man looked at him hesitantly.

"On you?"

"No, just do a few kicks in the air or something. Imagine you're fighting my enemies."

The man nodded and stood up from the couch, doing a few kicks. Drew was impressed – they looked like they'd be painful. He did look like an ex-military type, rippling with excess muscle and overly strict. Drew couldn't relate to that, but it might be fun to order the man around, and maybe he'd be good at obeying. He was seriously considering hiring the man for the position. Especially compared to his previous interviewees, who had ranged from mediocre to just-escaped-from-a-mental-hospital status. The one who kept demanding bi-weekly payment in rubber chickens had been particularly terrifying. The whole process had been tiring, unending. Drew was ready for it to be over. This man seemed reliable, competent – _why not_, he thought.

"Alright, you're hired!"

The man nodded curtly. "Excellent."

"I can write up the official papers in just a moment," said Drew, shaking the man's hand and wincing as he found himself caught in a vice-like grip. "I have a lot of exciting plans in the near future, and I am looking forward to having you obey my every whim."

"As am I," the man said bluntly.

Drew was about to ask another question when the doorbell rang.

"Excuse me," he said.

He walked over and opened the front door of his brand new lair. Outside, standing on his front porch, was a strikingly beautiful woman. Not only that, but she had something in common with him: both of them had strangely-colored skin. Hers was a sort of pale, sea-green hue, while his was blue, thanks to an unfortunate incident that had occurred on a Tuesday not long ago, when he-

"Um, hey."

The woman stared at him. She looked a little nervous. She had a heavy-looking bag in each hand, as if she was planning to move in. He wondered if she had the wrong lair for a moment, but realized that was a silly idea. How many lairs could there be in the general Middleton area? Not only that, but it was obvious she was here for the henchman position. It wasn't every day he came across someone with green skin. That just _screamed_ villainy. Although Drew wondered if he was being bigoted – was he under the impression that people with green skin were all villains? He began to feel nervous, wondering if he had offended her by staring at her too long.

"Why are you just standing there?"

The woman stared at him, bug-eyed.

"Ah, I'm sorry. Lost in thought. What do you want?"

"I'm here for the sidekick position in the _Villains Weekly_ newspaper."

"Oh, yes," he said with a cough. "Um, I regret to inform you that the position was just filled, as you can see."

He stepped aside and gave her a glimpse into his house, where his brand new right-hand man was still sitting on the couch, waiting for the wrap up at the end of his interview process. The woman hesitated in the doorway for a moment, and finally her shoulders slumped. Maybe the bags she was carrying were just heavy, but something about the subtle movement was sad, like she had been defeated. Drew felt a pang of guilt.

"Uh, thanks anyway," she said.

"You're very welcome."

The woman left the porch as Drew shut the door. He turned back to the man sitting on the couch, wanting to get to know his new henchman. He knew he'd have to hire more in the future, but right now, he was looking for a good second-in-command, a sort of sidekick who would faithfully follow his every order without any lip or backtalk. He'd be the idea person, and perhaps the sidekick could do the punching and hitting, which wasn't really what Drew looked forward to when it came to supervillainy. He was more of an ideas person.

"What was your name again?" he asked the man, realizing he had already forgotten.

Just before the man was about to answer, the doorbell rang again.

"_Nnngh,_" said Drew, feeling a brief flash of irritation. "Just one moment, please."

He opened the door again. It was the same woman.

"I changed my mind," she said.

"What?"

"I'm going to be your sidekick."

Drew grimaced. This looked like another crazy one. In just a few moments, she was probably going to start talking about rubber chickens or something. "Ah, okay," he said. "As I told you, that position has already been-"

"He's out," said the woman. "I'm in."

Drew gaped incredulously as the woman, until she took the liberty of stepping inside his lair and dropping the two duffel bags she was carrying onto the floor and leaving the door hanging open. She looked around, taking in the décor; Drew felt defensive, as it was a new place and he hadn't really decorated it to look like a proper lair, not that he knew exactly what one of those was supposed to look like. Still, she seemed okay with it.

"It could use a few improvements," she said, "but not bad. What's your name, anyway?"

"Drew Lipsky."

"Cool scar, by the way. Very supervillainish."

Drew touched his scar, and while he felt a quick pang of sadness, he was also flattered. "Thank you."

"Excuse me!"

The two of them turned to the man Drew had just hired for the position, who got up from the couch. He narrowed his eyes at the woman, who narrowed hers right back.

"Yeah?" she snapped.

"I was just hired for the position."

She shook her head. "You just got fired. Now leave."

"I don't _think_ so," the man growled.

Before Drew even knew what was going on, the two of them rushed at each other. He barely stepped out of the way in time, jerking back as they exchanged several blows. Now this was exciting: two prospective candidates, vying for his favor! He couldn't help wringing his hands together in anticipation of how the fight might go, although he really hoped neither of them broke his fancy coffee table. Sure, he had gotten it at a 100% discount after managing to sneak it out of the store's loading dock door without being seen, but fancy was fancy.

After being knocked back, the man made a running jump at the green-skinned woman, but she caught him by the leg and whirled him around, sending him crashing into a cupboard against the wall. Fine china and glassware shattered as the man hit the cupboard, creating a man-shaped dent in the wood and glass paneling. Drew winced; not the coffee table, at least, but still, that was a nice piece of furniture, even if maybe it wasn't the best fit for an actual lair.

The man got up with a snarl and charged the woman again, throwing a punch that she easily blocked, a kick that she barely had to sidestep to avoid. Although his kicks had seemed impressive, Drew was starting to get the impression that they were just for show. His martial arts skills weren't utterly incompetent, as far as he could tell, but the woman seemed to be out of his league. From the looks of it, he was already tiring out. Still, he got lucky when he caught the woman with a glancing blow that sent her falling right on the coffee table.

"Noooooo!"

The two of them stared at Drew in confusion for a moment before the woman got up from the remains of his beautiful coffee table with a snarl. A flurry of punches hemmed the man in, pressing him towards the door, which still hung open after her entrance. The man began to fight more desperately, and before he even knew what had happened, the woman gave him a bone-crunching kick in the chest that sent him flying out the door, rolling off the porch and onto the slate walkway that led away from the lair's front entrance. She stood in the doorway and looked out as the man got up, more slowly this time, and with a groan.

"Sorry," she said. "Better luck next time. There's a bus stop down the street."

She went back into the room, grabbed the man's briefcase, threw it out with him, slammed the door, and locked it before walking back inside. After a few half-hearted thumps on the door, no more noise came from outside; the man had decided his new job wasn't worth the effort, apparently. Drew gave his new guest a nervous grin as she sat down on the couch and made herself comfortable. From the looks of it, she was going to take the job whether he liked it or not. Still, it wasn't all bad. She was pretty, although maybe a little too young for him to be thinking about her _that_ way. Not that he usually had the time for romance, anyway. And she clearly knew how to fight. As long as she could learn to obey him, she might make a decent sidekick.

"So what's _your_ name?" he asked.

"Su – Shego."

"Sushego? That's a strange name."

"No, just Shego."

"What kind of a name is that?"

"It's like an alias. You don't know that? I thought you were supposed to be a supervillain?"

Drew felt himself blush with embarrassment. "I'm kind of new at this."

"Hmm. Me too. But even _I_ know you're supposed to use some kind of supervillain name. Like Drew – that's not gonna work. You need something a lot cooler than that."

Now that Drew thought about it, he had read something about needing a flashy name, but he supposed that particular item had fallen off his list of things to do before he could really make the transition into evil. "A cool name," he mused. "Like what?"

"I dunno. Something powerful. Some kind of dangerous animal, maybe."

"Ah. Hippopotamuses are the most dangerous animals to humans. Hippocrates?"

"Um – no. Not unless you're planning to study supervillain medicine."

"What?"

"Just try again. Hippos don't really have the right mystique, anyway."

"Does it have to be a _real_ animal?"

"I guess not," said Shego. "Do what you want."

Drew thought about it for a moment. He didn't have to do a dangerous animal, but since Shego had suggested it, the theme was on his mind. Maybe something about a dragon would be nice. Dragor? No, that was lame. Draco? No, too cliché. It needed a different ending.

"So why do you have a lair right outside Middleton?" asked Shego. "Kind of a weird place to set up."

"This is my hometown," said Drew.

Shego seemed indifferent to the answer. It was true that Middleton seemed like the middle of nowhere, but technically, that wasn't true – the international criminal and supervillain fighting organization, Global Justice, was located in Middleton, for instance. At least Drew had heard rumors about that. The Middleton Space Center was a fairly top-notch place to be located in a place like this, too. Quite frankly, Middleton was quite a happening place, even if Drew had no idea why that was the case.

He had avoided it for years, mainly because his mother was there and he wanted to strike out as a new man, but over time, he had realized that his mother would find him no matter where he lived. Her unexpected visits were neverending. And while Middleton held some bad memories, it also held some good ones – he felt tied to the place, despite all that had happened in his past. Now that he was stepping up his supervillain game to a full-time job, hopefully his radio business story would hold up when she inevitably discovered his new lair.

Independence had been good for him, even if he couldn't _really_ get away from his mother. She could be irritating, even smothering, but he did love her. And at least she seemed happy. He sometimes thought about her, living alone in that house - but she had always had a positive outlook. More than his father, anyway. He wondered what his father would think of his new profession. He'd probably disapprove, being a police officer. Just the thought of his father brought a surge of emotion welling up. It was hard to think about that last moment, seeing the garage, his father inside, and then-

But before that, while Drew was back from college, things had been different. They had grown closer than they ever had before. In the end, his father had finally accepted Drew for who he was. Good, evil, or something in between – it didn't matter. Drew was his father's son.

"Dra - Ken," he said. "Drakken."

"What?"

"That will be my supervillain name."

Shego thought about it for a moment.

"I like it."

Drew smiled; he was glad to get some approval on the name. "Although you can call me _Doctor_ Drakken," he added as an afterthought.

"What, are you like an actual doctor?"

"No. It's academic."

"Oh – you're like a professor?"

"Well, I didn't actually get so far as a PhD, but I was well on my way to earning one before I voluntarily dropped out for personal reasons. It was a local college, actually – the Middleton Institute of Science and Technology. Very prestigious place. I earned a PhD in all but the most technical sense, to put it simply."

Shego raised an eyebrow. "_Okay,_" she said. "By the way, I don't really like this whole sidekick thing, to be honest with you. Once we draw up a contract, I'm thinking a better term would be 'partners'. Don't you think so?"

"Er, I'll consider it."

"So, what's on the agenda, _Doctor_ D?"

"Please don't call me that."

Shego gave him a sly wink. Drew didn't like the way she said the word 'doctor', like she was mocking him. It was amazing how the woman's attitude had changed in the few minutes since he had met her – out there on the porch, with her heavy bags slung over her shoulders, she had looked nervous, almost bedraggled, like she had been searching for a place to stay for a long time. But now, almost instantaneously, she seemed totally confident.

_ Too_ confident, really. Kind of lippy and sarcastic.

The woman definitely seemed to have an impudent streak. Especially considering the way she had barged in and essentially taken over the job – with his explicit permission, of course. But maybe those qualities would end up being useful in a henchwoman. Or even a partner, possibly. She just needed a little time to learn how to behave properly as a subordinate, that was all. They were both getting the hang of things. Despite the attitude, Drew thought his new supervillain sidekick looked very promising.

Hopefully, this would be the beginning of a beautiful partnership.

XX

* * *

_**Notes** - This is the second to last chapter. I will post the final one on Friday._


	17. Fathers and Son

**Fathers and Son**

XX

It just wasn't the same lair without Shego.

Getting a pardon had given Drakken a sense of freedom, some time to breathe – even if it wasn't really that hard to evade Global Justice's not-so-watchful eye, in the end – but somehow that freedom hadn't amounted to anything. Instead of working on a new plan for world domination, or even cleaning up the mess that his temporary allies had left down in the lair itself while they were suppressing Dementor's henchmen, he had basically been sitting around and vegetating.

It had been days since his mother, cousin, and sidekick left the lair. His henchmen were around from time to time, although he didn't keep them on the clock for very long since he wasn't working on much. The lair and cottage definitely had an empty feeling to them. Like they had been abandoned. Drakken spent his time eating and watching television, wondering why he felt so morose. He knew the most obvious reason was Shego's rejection. The way she had gone on her vacation almost out of spite, even though he had gotten her pardoned. No appreciation at all from that woman. The things he did for her... but it wasn't just Shego's departure that was getting him down.

It was also the guilt.

And that was why he had left the lair and come here, to his mother's house, wandering around the living room and looking at photographs that he hadn't seen in years, waiting for her to come out of the kitchen with the Cocoa Moo she had offered to make. He knew he needed to talk to her. They hadn't been in contact since she left his lair, and Drakken had had a lot of time to think things over.

"Here you are, Drewbie!"

His mother emerged from the kitchen with piping hot mugs of hot chocolate. Drakken took a sip and burned his mouth, setting it down on the display cabinet beside the photographs he had been looking at. Claudia clucked in disapproval and grabbed a coaster from a nearby end table, placing it beneath Drakken's mug as he continued looking over the photos in their chintzy frames. They brought back a lot of memories. Most included him – some were embarrassing infant photos, and in some, he was wearing that jean jacket he always had on when he was a teen. He saw one picture of himself as a child, wearing his father's police uniform, which hung off his small frame, and brandishing his fingers as if they were a gun. His mother and father were in the background. Although he didn't remember his father smiling very often, he was smiling in the picture. Drakken couldn't help smiling, too.

"I remember that," said his mother. "You were cute as a button back then! Not that you're any less cute now!"

Drakken grumbled as his mother reached up and pinched his cheek.

"So how come you came over, Drewbie?"

"I wanted to talk to you, mother."

"What'd you wanna talk about?"

Drakken took his mug of Cocoa Moo and moved it to the coffee table across from the couch. He took a seat, looking around the room. His mother's house looked a lot like he remembered, so many years ago – she hadn't changed anything much at all. It didn't seem like the house of a woman who was married to a supervillain, and mother to another. Especially not someone who apparently knew about their activities all along, and yet had no problem with it.

"Why do you like Dementor so much?" he asked.

His mother sat down beside him, thinking about the question for a long time.

"Hans is nice to me, Drew. He really loves me. I know he's not perfect, but I'm getting older, sweetie. Sometimes when you get older, you can get lonely. I don't want to keep waiting for someone perfect – I just want a man who treats me right and makes me happy. And Hans does that. He just happens to want to take over the world, too."

It seemed reasonable enough, although Drakken still felt like he was missing something.

"If you're fine with that, why did you let him lie to you about having a radio show?"

"I didn't know much about it, at first – he wanted to keep his work separate from his relationship. He said he hadn't been in a relationship in a long time because he was always so busy. Once I found out, I _did_ tell him I knew what his equipment was for, but he kept denying it. I thought maybe he was a little sensitive, like you, Drewbie. I didn't want to push it – and when we moved in with you, I didn't want to give away that I knew _you_ were a supervillain."

"Why not?"

"I thought you'd tell me when you were ready, Drew. You seemed sensitive about it."

"Sensitive? I don't understand – I take pride in my work, mother!"

"I don't mean that, Drewbie. I thought it had to do with your father."

Drakken knew she wasn't talking about his stepfather this time. And he knew she was right, too. He had wanted to run away after his father's death, to forget about what he had seen, to deny his role in what had happened. But he couldn't really deny it, no matter how deeply he buried it. His love of science, of dangerous inventions and reckless experimentation - those things could not be changed. They were a part of him. And yet they had caused his father's death. Maybe the police chief had interfered, maybe his father had chosen to get involved, but Drew couldn't shake the feeling.

He gone down the treacherous path of supervillainy, trying to place the blame on anything, anyone else, trying to embrace the opposite of the conformity that had crushed his father over the years. He did not want to follow in his father's footsteps. He did not want to be obligated to anyone, ever. And yet in the back of his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that his father would be disappointed in him. That, after her husband's death, finding out that her son was a supervillain would be the final blow. His path was a path of defiance, but beneath it was a streak of shame.

"Drewbie?"

"Yes, mother?"

"You know I love you, no matter what you do."

_Even_, thought Drakken, _after what I've done?_

"And your father loved you, too. He didn't always know how to show it, but he loved you. You're our son."

His mother beckoned for him to come closer, and Drakken embraced her in a hug. It was always awkward, hugging his mother- she was so short that her frizzy red hair tickled his nose. Tears welled in his eyes, and he felt a hot, tense lump in his throat as he tried not to cry. He had abandoned his mother – he knew that now. All these years, despite all her unannounced visits, her uncanny knack of finding him no matter where he set up his next lair. He wanted to leave himself behind, leave his past behind, but had left _her_ behind when she needed him. It was a cruel mistake. He could feel it, right down to his bones. But he knew there was a way to make up for it.

He sniffed, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "I'm sorry, mother."

His mother released her grip and looked up at her son.

"Sorry about what, Drewbie?"

"I'm sorry about putting Dementor – Hans – behind bars."

His mother considered his apology for a moment, and then sighed.

"I know you two have a history. I forgive you. You were just doing what you thought was best, sweetie. Besides, Hans will break out sooner or later – that's what you supervillains do, isn't it?"

Drakken smiled. That _was_ what they did.

"I want you to move back in with me, mother."

Claudia looked hopefully at her son.

"And Eddie, too. I want us to be a family."

His mother smiled. For the first time in a long time, his wasn't uncomfortable around her. He supposed her stay at the lair with Dementor had made him accustomed to her presence. He hadn't been to this house in years, and yet it still felt like home. Drakken wondered if that was because it _was_ his childhood home – but no, that didn't seem quite right. His lairs always felt like home when Shego was around, after all. Maybe home wasn't really a place, so much as it was wherever your loved ones happened to be.

He had already paid Shego a visit the other day, letting her know his latest plan. Today, he had come home to set things right with his mother. But there was one other visit he had to make before he could finish doing that. He reached over to the coffee table and took another sip of his Cocoa Moo. By now, it was getting a little cold. When he got back, he could warm it up again. He stood up from the couch, ready to leave.

"Where are you going, Drewbie?"

"I have to go out, mother. But I'll be back soon."

"Where are you going?"

Drew stopped at the door. He wasn't going far at all.

"I just have to visit someone."

XX

Kim was starting to feel guilty, but then again, Ron and Rufus had gone through about fifteen pizza slices so far, and JP Bearymore's wasn't exactly cheap. They knew just where to gouge their customers. She should have won the bet, anyway – so as far as she was concerned, this was just evening the score a little bit. And it was hilarious, too.

"Oh my lord," said Monique. "Look at the way his butt wiggles!"

Kim laughed as her friend pointed to her boyfriend's rear end. He was wearing the outfit they had bought for him just after they finished their shopping spree at Club Banana, before they had all headed off to JP Bearymore's. Seeing as her father declared their little bet a tie, they had to fill all of its terms, and one of Ron's conditions for losing was that he had to wear an outfit chosen by her and Monique. She couldn't remember if they had set a time limit on how long he had to wear it, but she supposed she'd let him take it off if he got _too_ hysterical about it.

Still, she personally thought that pink miniskirt was very fitting on him.

"Stop looking at me, KP!"

"Ron, I'm your girlfriend! I'm not allowed to look at you?"

"Not like that!"

Kim and Monique were sitting at a table, nibbling on slices of pizza while they watched Ron and Felix playing an arcade game together about a dozen feet away. Kim noticed her boyfriend kept looking around from time to time, like he was hoping nobody he knew would notice him. Fortunately for him, it was a slow night. A few kids had come by earlier, though, pointing and laughing, and while Kim felt a little bad for him, it was undeniably hilarious at the same time.

Between Ron and Felix, she didn't know which of them was winning the game, but Rufus seemed to be taking over the arcade controls whenever Ron got distracted or dodged around to the side of the arcade machine to avoid being seen. Kim wondered if that was cheating. Either way, Felix didn't seem to care.

"Hey, Monique!"

Kim smirked at the sight of the newest arrival. Josh Mankey was right on time. "You got my call?" she asked him.

Josh looked at Kim in confusion.

"Call?"

"Well, I left you a message," she said. "To come hang out with everybody? And Monique?"

"Uh, I guess I didn't catch that. Monique called me, actually."

Kim looked at her friend in surprise. Monique stuck her tongue out before getting up from the table. "I figured internet dating was a little lame," she said. "Better to take the plunge."

"Internet dating?" asked Josh.

"Uh, nothing. Wanna go play some air hockey?"

"You bet I do!"

Monique and Josh walked by Ron and Felix, and – just like Kim had expected – Josh did a double take at seeing Ron in the pink miniskirt. Ron had forgotten to dodge around behind the machine to avoid attention, and he almost knocked the whole thing over when he leaped back in surprise. "Mankey!" he said. There was a break in the music, and his voice echoed out over the playroom.

"Hey, Stoppable. What's with that miniskirt?"

"Don't make fun of me, Mankey. I'm just being an individualist!"

"Hey, I wasn't making fun of you. I actually agree – I think it's pretty cool, man. You're making a statement!"

Ron hesitated. Kim could barely stifle her laughter. Josh looked like he was actually being serious, not sarcastic, but she was pretty sure Ron had no idea what kind of statement he was trying to make, if any. Still, he seemed to be flattered by the comment. "You think so?" he asked.

"He's totally right!"

Kim was surprised to see Tara appear from behind a row of arcade games. She hadn't seen her fellow cheerleader when they came in; apparently Tara had been absorbed in the games. The blonde girl looked over Ron in a way that sent a stab of jealousy through Kim. But she told herself she was just imagining things.

"I think a guy who wears something like that in public is really brave," said Tara. "It shows you have confidence, and you're not afraid to laugh at yourself. Which is pretty sexy, if you ask me."

A series of unintelligible words streamed out of Ron's mouth before he trailed off. Tara giggled before giving him an almost imperceptible wink and slipping back between the arcade games, returning to whichever one she had been playing. Josh and Monique headed off to get a little privacy. Kim was left alone at her table, feeling distinctly unnerved by what Tara had said to her boyfriend. Wasn't she going out with that Jason guy now, anyway?

_Cool it, Kim_, she told herself. _Jealousy much?_

She got up from the table and walked over to the game Ron and Felix were playing with each other. Not surprisingly, it looked like it was one of the versions of _Zombie Mayhem_. She couldn't tell who was winning, or if they were even competing against each other, as the screen seemed to be a solid mass of writhing zombies, occasionally blocked by Rufus as he scampered over the controls, to Ron and Felix's irritation.

"Dude," said Felix. "I totally just got bitten because of you. Are you just distracting me so Ron can beat my score? Because it's totally working."

"Mm, no way!"

Rufus shook his head emphatically before noticing that Kim had left part of her pizza slice uneaten at the table. He bounded away from the arcade game as Kim watched them play.

"So, hey, Ron," she said, trying to be casual, "you can take off the miniskirt if it's too embarrassing."

She noticed Ron glancing in the direction of Tara, who she could see off in another part of the room.

"It's cool, KP. I actually don't mind it so much."

Kim felt a sudden, irresistible urge. She grabbed Ron, flipped him around, and locked her lips with his, giving him a hard kiss as she pressed him up against the arcade machine. She wasn't sure why – maybe it was just because he was her boyfriend. Or maybe it was her little moment of insecurity. She was just claiming what was hers.

They parted, and Ron gave her a dopey expression.

"Uh, thanks, KP. That was nice."

"I win!"

Felix threw up his arms with a whoop. Ron's moment of distraction had been enough to let his character get eaten by zombies; Kim gave him an apologetic smile.

She was about to kiss him again to help make up for his turning into zombie chow when the Kimmunicator's beep-beep-_be_-beep rang out from her pants pocket. Kim frowned and fished it out; with Dementor and Drakken out of the picture, she wondered who they might be fighting next. Maybe she and Ron would need to make another bet. Then again, supervillains had a way of breaking out of jail pretty quickly, so it _could_ be Dementor. And it wasn't like anybody believed Drakken was going to stay on the straight and narrow for very long.

"What's the sitch, Wade?"

"Give us the news, dude," said Ron. "Is it Drakken or Dementor?"

"We don't _know_ it's either of them," Kim reminded him.

Ron frowned, realizing his girlfriend was right.

"I've been keeping an eye on that tracking chip we put on Shego's hovercraft," said Wade. "It was off in Go City for a while, but it just returned to Drakken's new lair. Not only that, but I've been getting some weird readings over the last few days. I think our blue buddy is up to something."

Ron let out a loud whoop of triumph and pumped his fist in the air. Kim rolled her yes; she had no idea why he was acting like he had won something when they hadn't even _made_ a new bet yet. Still, it wasn't about who they fought first. It was about who they defeated. Her suspicions were right – Drakken had been blowing smoke in their faces when he was talking about turning a new leaf after his pardon. But that didn't mean Dementor was off the table. Global Justice could never figure out how to hold anybody for more than five minutes, anyway.

Either way, it looked like they might be cutting their evening a little short.

XX

Morning had passed into afternoon, and a cool wind was blowing through the town of Middleton. Drakken knew Shego was waiting for him, but he had time – and he needed to do this first. It was not a long walk from his mother's house, although he hadn't taken this particular walk in years. Down the sidewalk, towards the edge of the neighborhood in which he had grown up, down a winding little one-lane road shaded by overhanging trees that rustled softly in the breeze. A white-washed wooden fence to his left, a small gate with no lock, and he was there.

The last time he had come here, he was not alone. He remembered his mother by his side, dressed in black. He remembered the rows of seats lined up on either side of the gaping hole in the earth, the priest waiting with his book in hand. Another representative of an institution. A man in a suit, waiting to give everyone platitudes and convince them of some great meaning behind his father's death, some reassurance that it was all part of some plan. Even then, Drew had no use for their plans. He didn't know the details at the time, but he already had the conviction that he'd be making his own plans.

He remembered his father's fellow officers, carrying the casket through the graveyard, down the little dirt path that bisected it until they could reach his father's freshly-dug grave without stepping on anyone else's. Officer Hobble had been sad, he remembered. And he knew the man was his father's friend. But the others, as far as he was concerned, had never respected Ken Lipsky. They didn't deserve to be there. Chief Brody least of all. It was all Drew could do to keep quiet and wait for the service to be over.

_May he rest in peace._

The priest had said a lot of things about his father – nice, meaningless words, considering the priest barely knew who Ken Lipsky was. But Drew had hoped that he _was_ resting in peace.

Drakken still hoped that now. He weaved through the gravestones until he reached the one he was looking for. He hadn't visited it since that day, long ago. But through all the years that had passed, somehow Drakken still remembered what it looked like. He still remembered just where it was. He recognized it now, looking old and faded, the name 'Ken Lipsky' carved into its mottled gray face. A bouquet of flowers lay on the ground in front of the gravestone. Their petals flickered in the air as a breeze twisted and turned among the gravestones; they were wilted, but not dead. His mother, apparently, had been a more faithful visitor.

"I'm here, father."

Drakken was not a particularly religious man. Neither were his parents – and even in college, none of his so-called friends had ever been all that religious, really, although the subject didn't come up very often. He wasn't sure where his father was. Was he in heaven? Had he been reincarnated? Was he just a few feet below, nothing more than bones and dust? Drakken didn't know. He was a genius, but – amazingly enough – some things were beyond even him.

He didn't know if he was talking to his father or talking to himself. He wanted to believe it was the former. Perhaps it didn't really matter, in the end. He just needed to talk.

"I don't know if you'd like what I've become."

Drakken paused, even though he knew there would be no reply. The graveyard was silent.

"I've done things you might not be proud of. I've gone down a path – maybe a different path than you would have wanted. I've made a lot of mistakes. But I want you to know I've tried. And I'm going to try harder – I'm not going to take the ones who love me for granted anymore. I'm going to be better to them. And to mother, most of all."

Even if his promises were unheard, floating away in the breeze, he knew they weren't empty, at least. Ever since Dementor had been locked away, ever since his family left the lair, Drakken had been given a lot of time to think. Something James Possible had said during that meeting days ago... it had stuck in his head, burned like a brand. A comment about Kim Possible's sidekick, the buffoon, being like family, even if he wasn't related. Perhaps James lacked his independent spirit, his intelligence, his creativity - but the man was right. It was absolutely true. Drakken felt the exact same way about Shego, after all. She was family.

"Maybe we never had much in common," he said. "but I know you love me. You're my father. I love you. And I'm never going to forget about you. I'll never let you go."

Drakken knelt down for a moment, placing his hand on the earth in front of his father's gravestone. He didn't know why, really. It just seemed like the right thing to do. The grass was cool and dry beneath his fingers, and for just a moment, the breeze around him picked up, turning into a gust of wind that plucked a few wilted petals from the flowers his mother had placed there, carrying them off into the breeze as they spun playfully in the air. A superstitious man might have taken it as a sign. But Drakken was not one of those men. He knew it was just a coincidence.

Still – he hoped his words had not gone unheard.

XX

"Hey, did you hear about the guy in the other cell, Jimmy?"

Dementor had _not_ heard about the guy in the other cell, and he certainly didn't want to hear about it from Frugal Lucre. Unfortunately, he didn't have much choice in the matter, as the two of them were cell mates and Dementor didn't have any laser guns handy with which he could vaporize the man before he started another story. He missed his wife, his son, even Eddie Lipsky. But after coming within a hair's breadth of total world domination, here he was, forced to listen to his cell mate's inane drivel.

"I heard Jimmy got out by hiding in a pile of dirty underwear while he was on laundry duty. I dunno if it's worth escaping if you gotta do _that_, am I right?"

Dementor ignored his cell mate. After a moment, Lucre continued talking about their fellow prisoner's supposed escape scheme – he tuned the man out, knowing the story was probably something made up by another prisoner, anyway. As far as he knew, there was no laundry duty handled by the prisoners. This was a maximum security Global Justice facility, after all. He wasn't sure what kind of legal jurisdiction they had, but Global Justice had always seemed like it was sort of a special case, doing pretty much what it wanted when it came to fighting supervillains.

He had been stuck in jail for what felt like forever, although it was probably more like a week or two. Time had a way of stretching out into infinity when you were spending twenty-three hours a day in a confined area with Frugal Lucre. The man was also a supervillain – or at least a villain, as far as Dementor could tell – but his schemes seemed ridiculously uninteresting, lacking in any flash or grandiosity. Didn't the man take pride in his evil work? Dementor supposed not. Drew's ideas didn't quite match his own, but compared to Lucre's bargain bin brainstorming, they were sheer genius. He sighed as Lucre droned on, leaning back against the concrete wall as he sat on the top bunk. Lucre had already taken it when he first arrived in the prison, but Dementor had insisted on Lucre switching to the bottom bunk.

Normally, he should have escaped by now. Prisons weren't enough to hold someone like him back. The security in this place seemed like it was more beefed up than what he had seen during any of his past incarcerations, but something more than that was holding him back. He was apathetic, listless, and he knew why: it was because of Drew.

Because of the betrayal.

He couldn't even be angry at Drew, really. Dementor had felt crushed when he saw his son come through the door of that observation room at the Middleton Space Center, revealing he had been working with the enemy the whole time. That had changed briefly to anger when he was first thrown in his cell, as Dementor wondered how his son could be so ungrateful, but it was amazing how quickly the anger melted away. The hours had ticked by, and he had lots of time with nothing to do except think about what went wrong.

And _he_ was the biggest part of what went wrong. He knew that now.

Dementor had tried to be a father. He had tried, so very hard, but he had been doing it all wrong. Dismissing his son's plans, running roughshod over his supervillain hopes and dreams, and sneering at his ideas – that wasn't the way to earn a son's love. He had let his pride get in the way. Maybe he was smarter than Drew, and his schemes were better, but Drew was smart, too. Drew had the potential to make some very important contributions to his schemes. Maybe – just possibly – even come up with a couple of his own, as long as he ran things by Dementor. He should have listened more. He should have reached out.

Not only that, but he should have trusted his son. Just like that silly therapist had said, the one Claudia had insisted on them visiting – it was all about trust. When Dementor had taken the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer out of the lair, unannounced, just after Drew's breakdown at therapy, he had claimed it was because he wanted to make sure Kim Possible and her sidekick didn't run across it if they infiltrated the lair. But that wasn't it, really. He had doubted his son, after seeing the way he had reacted at the therapy session. Despite his optimism, he had gotten a sinking feeling that his son couldn't be trusted, and so he had taken the Vortex Inducer so Drew couldn't interfere. Of course, he _had_ interfered, in the end – Dementor's suspicions had been confirmed. But what reason he had he ever given Drew to trust him? He hadn't shared any details of the plan until the last minute. He hadn't asked before moving in to Drew's lair, which he had to admit was due to selfish reasons – he _had_ needed a new lair, after all.

Ultimately, he had approached fatherhood too impersonally. A combination of knee-jerk discipline, like the way he treated his henchmen, and random bonding activities he had gleaned from the internet or from magazines. He hadn't taken the time to really get to know Drew, to really show him that he was willing to meet him halfway. It had been almost as hard for him as it was for Drew, anyway. The two of them had been enemies for a long time, even if Dementor had always had a certain grudging respect for his supervillain competition.

He had been genuinely looking for love on the online dating site, hoping to start a relationship when he had been absorbed in his work for so long, and maybe even start a family. Seeing what turned out to be Doctor Drakken's mother was too good an opportunity to pass up, and Dementor was a little embarrassed to admit that his motives _had_ been bad at first – taking over the lair, getting to his enemy by using his family. But Claudia Lipsky had turned out to be the most delightful woman. Love had come to roost before Dementor even knew it. That had left him in a bit of a pickle, having to learn to accept his enemy as his son.

But Dementor had done it, and his wife had told him about a side of Drew he hadn't seen before. He always wanted a son, anyway, even though taking over the world had taken priority. And at least _this_ son shared the same goals and interests. It was just too bad Drew had never felt the same way. From the looks of it, all Dementor's best efforts had come to nothing. He wanted a family. But he had failed.

"So how about that, huh?"

Dementor stared blankly at his cell mate, who had just finished whatever long-winded story he had been telling.

"I vas not listening."

"What? I really don't wanna say all that again."

"You do not haf to. Ve can just sit quietly."

"Yeah, sure," said Lucre. "We can try that."

Dementor sat quietly in his cot while Frugal sat in a chair across from him. Global Justice had been kind enough to provide chairs in the cells. He had been in worse prisons, to be honest. He was amazed to see Frugal Lucre actually quieting down for once, and he was just about to enjoy some pleasant silence when he felt a strange sensation. Like the concrete floor of the cell was rumbling. He wondered if they were having an earthquake. A couple of guards, who had been passing through the hallway beyond his prison bars, stopped walking for a moment as the rumbling grew louder.

"Calm down," they said to a couple of prisoners yelling from nearby cells. "Just an earthquake."

But the rumbling did not stop. Something about it wasn't quite right, either – he was no expert, but Dementor got the feeling it wasn't an earthquake. He stood up from his cot and looked curiously through the cell bars, wondering just what was going on, when suddenly the bars began to twist in front of his eyes. He took a step back. Something was about to happen.

Sure enough, the bars buckled, dislodged from their concrete moorings as the floor beneath them suddenly cracked and shifted. Dementor moved back more, hitting the far wall of his cell, as the floor rose up in jagged slabs, like some kind of volcano erupting in a cloud of dust, dirt, and debris. Through the mess, however, he could see that something was coming up through the floor. Something shiny and metallic. And huge, too.

"What's going on?"

He heard the guards yelling from outside his cell, but at this point, some kind of cylindrical object with a giant drill-shaped head was jutting up from the floor, blocking almost the entire cell door, other than a narrow crack between its metallic edge and the cell wall. The massive drill bit on the head of the strange vehicle was still spinning for a moment, actually carving out a crack in the cell's ceiling, before it powered down. Frugal Lucre took the opportunity to squeeze through the crack between the machine and the wall, escaping into the hallway that connected all the cells.

"Hey, see you later!" he said. "It was nice meeting you, Dementor!"

"Yes, I am sure."

Ignoring his cell mate's departure, Dementor stood in awe as he stared at his unexpected visitor. A hatch on the side of the thing opened up with a whoosh of air. He was even more surprised to see his son popping his head out.

"Ah," said Drew. "It looks like we hit the right cell."

Shego popped her head out beside Drew, giving him a nod. Between the two of them, Motor Ed appeared, his bulk barely fitting as he squeezed out to look at the cell. "Sweet!" he said. "Cuz, this is like the coolest ride _ever!_ Seriously!"

A few screams echoed in the hallway outside – from the sound of it, their break-in had done enough damage to open up a couple of adjacent cells, letting some of Global Justice's inmates free to wreak havoc on their guards. None of them seemed to be bothering Dementor, however. He looked hopefully at his son. Was this a rescue attempt? He almost didn't want to believe it – but could it be true?

Drew held out a hand.

"Mother isn't here – there wasn't enough room in the machine. But she's waiting for you."

Dementor smiled. It _was_ true. He was being rescued.

He grabbed his son by the hand, who pulled him up and brought him into the machine. Inside, buttons and dials flashed and beeped on control panels in a cramped pilot's chamber. It was some kind of underground tunneling vehicle, which they had used to burrow under the GJ prison and bypass the normal security measures. Dementor was impressed. The hatch closed behind him as Drew took the controls. He heard a faint whirring sound as the drill bit on the front of the burrowing machine began to start spinning again, a lurch as the machine used some kind of reverse locomotion mechanism to drag itself back in the tunnel where it could change direction.

They were moving, now. Making progress. Going in the right direction, wherever that was.

"Vere are we going now?" he asked his son. "To the cottage?"

"No, we'll have to leave that behind. Not secret enough - everyone knows about it now."

"Where, then?"

His son looked up with a grin.

"Home, father. We're going home."

XX

**THE END**

* * *

_**Notes** - That's it for this story. Hope you guys enjoyed it, and let me know what you thought!_

_This certainly isn't my most popular story by a long shot, but out of all the stories I've written, it's my personal favorite - and it has my favorite ending, too. I got the idea a long time ago, around when I was writing Just a Jock. Someone in the KP chatroom brought up the idea of Drakken's mother getting married, which made me think of Dementor as an amusing husband for all the angst and drama it would cause with Drakken. The more I thought about it, the more I thought that it could work not just for laughs but for drama, and as a way to explore Drakken's family issues. I also got the idea for _A Pinky Joe Curly Tale_ not too long afterwards, and how it could intertwine with this story._

_I didn't start either story when I first came up with their overall plots - partly because I kept getting sidetracked with other things, and partly because I was nervous about tackling some aspects of them, particularly the shifts between past and present. _A Pinky Joe Curly Tale_ in particular was something I didn't feel comfortable tackling early on, with its story-within-a-story structure. I started them much later, once I was a lot more confident in my writing ability, although even then I got temporarily sidetracked on this one. I was beginning to think it was cursed! :)_

_It seems appropriate that this is my favorite story, as it might also be my last Kim Possible story, so it's a good one to end on. I haven't seen the show in a while - I've been feeling like I have explored its universe enough, and I've been wanting to take an IRL break and then write for other shows. It's possible I might rewatch KP episodes in the future and get back in the mood to write more for the show, but I kind of doubt it. Maybe I'm speaking too soon, who knows._

_Either way, if you want more in the near future, go read old stuff I've written. And I like reviews even on the older stories! :)_


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